Cold Heart
by diamondwine
Summary: The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes and OFC. Mikelle Hass led a double life without knowing it. Now on the run, she discovers that Hydra is after her, and they've sent The Winter Soldier to retrieve her.
1. Chapter 1

After the whole S.H.I.E.L.D. debacle, I'm no longer sure what to call myself; who I am and what I do hasn't changed much. I still fly under the radar, clandestine and deadly, but only when I have to be. I'm a renegade, I guess. Self-certified. The truth is, I no longer know who to trust. Ever since the information leak, I've faked my own death, moved to a new city, changed my name—my hair colour even—the works. To make a long story short, I was built to be an assassin of sorts, unbeknownst to me, on the wrong side of a war between S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra, among other enemies. I won't go into graphic detail about what I've done, what S.H.I.E.L.D. did to me, the lives I've taken, but I'm essentially a weapon. I'm not like most people—human beings for that matter. I can move things with my mind, if I try hard enough. Since the testing on me stopped when S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed, it generally takes much more effort, and I get migraines and nosebleeds when I try to extensively utilize the power. I can turn invisible, something I can't remember being unable to do. Though I don't know much about where I came from, my parents, my family, it's always been an ability of my own. I was sixteen when I discovered that my "parents" were not my real parents; they were simply fostering me, and they were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in disguise, keeping an eye on me. It wasn't until S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed that I learned they were actually spies for Hydra, double agents at that. And now they're dead. It wasn't made obvious whose side they were really on until S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised. I'd sided with the Captain and Fury. But as soon as I found out my history, I knew there wasn't really any coming back from that. As far as I know, I'm _everybody's _enemy. At twenty-six years old, I find myself on the run, more or less. My "parents" left me all possessions in their wills, but with it came Hydra. I'd sold the house, got enough to help me try to start a new life. However, the more I dug after they died, the more I started realizing what they'd had mapped out for me from the get-go. I was supposed to have joined them and become an agent of Hydra. Hydra had me on its radar from the moment I was given to my parents. I was to be raised as a spy, believing I was serving the greater good, when really, I wasn't. Hydra wanted me to be one of their many secret weapons from the moment it was learned that I had abilities that made me different from others. If you need eyes and ears on your enemies, what's better than an invisible spy? As I slip the key into the lock of my apartment complex, a chill meets my ear. Slowly, I turn my head to find that the hall is as empty as it was when I stepped off the elevator. Yet out of the corner of my eye, I swear the door to 808 across the hall is open a crack. It closes, confirming my suspicion. As I turn the lock, I can't help remembering that the Reeds moved out of that apartment four weeks ago, and to the best of my knowledge, that apartment had been empty since. My landlord, Phillips, kept me up-to-date on the prospective new residents, and he hadn't told me any news since the Reeds moved out. Feeling thoroughly creeped out and suddenly anxious, I hurry into my apartment, drop my grocery bags on the floor, and close the door, bolting the lock securely and taking a few steps back, hurrying to turn the light switch on at the same time as I feel myself fade, and I can't be seen when I pass the mirror above the stand where I drop my car keys into a bowl. Quietly, I step through my lonely apartment. After searching the bedroom, my closet, the bathroom, the kitchen, it's secure enough to my comfort to make myself visible again. What's amazing about my power is that not only can I turn invisible, anything I touch or want to be unseen goes with me. I wouldn't have to worry about stripping naked just to sneak past the cameras when trying to rob a bank (not that I've done it _yet_, but if I ever get desperate enough for the money, it might be worthwhile). I turn on the sink in the kitchen and dump a few potatoes into it with a sigh, walking over to pull the shade up on the window and let the gray, rainy day, shine some light in. It's the last day of April, and I don't know how much longer I can stay here undetected, live a real life. I reach into the drawer and glance comfortingly at the Glock I put there and haven't had to use in a little over two months. I started sleeping with a knife under my pillow, when the nightmares came. I can barely sleep, living on edge the way I have been. My last S.H.I.E.L.D. mission went smoothly, and I'd had the chance to meet Captain America, but I just want to forget it all. And really, I know that I can't, because somebody, whether an ex-agent or official of some sort from S.H.I.E.L.D., someone from Hydra, or any other corporation could come after me at any moment. I call myself Amelia Barnes now. I don't know why; I guess I just chose the first A- and B-names that came to mind. It didn't matter, so long as I liked the ring of it and it was a far cry from Mikelle Hass. My parents used to call me Mickey Mouse, Elle, Kelly, and as I stand at the sink, skinning potatoes, I don't notice myself smiling, or the teardrop rolling down my cheek, until it makes wet contact with my lips. I pause to wipe my eyes, shake my head, wipe it out. _They lied to you, you know. Your entire life. How do you really know if they ever actually loved you, or if you were just a weapon being kept in mint condition until deemed useful?_ The hate replaces the hurt and I sigh. Aside from Phillips, a couple of neighbors, and my coworkers at the record shop that I've been working at, I have had absolutely no human contact. Even my closest friends believe I'm dead. It kills me on the inside, but I need them to believe I'm gone; I pose a threat to anyone I've ever cared for. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything ever happened to them because of me. After I make myself dinner, I sit and listen to the radio, spinning the Glock on my kitchen table, and staring at the front door. I can't shake 808 out of my head. When I think I'll explode from the anxiety, I creep up to the door, Glock in hand, and stare out the peephole to the far left. I can just see the door of 808. It's closed and looks desolate without the sun catcher and welcome mat the Reeds had to decorate it. I give up on my suspicion and store the gun back in my kitchen drawer. After I'm tired of listening to NPR, I take a shower and prepare for the following day. I actually fall asleep tonight, and when I dream, I dream about throwing punches, shooting guns, using my power to get past guards and save hostages…and then a masked man I've never seen before enters my field of vision. I can barely see him, but I reach out my hand as if he's really there. With the other, I scramble for the knife under my pillow. I don't feel it there, but my other hand has gripped something cold, metallic to the touch, and it grips my wrist right back, another hand creeping into my hair, and then the face slowly fades away, and I'm asleep again. In the morning, I've woken up ten minutes later than planned, somehow managing to sleep through my alarm clock. I sit up in a hurry, tripping out of bed, cursing, praying the dream I had was _only_ a dream—nothing more. I rush back out of the bathroom, after peeing, to slam my alarm clock off. I step on something sharp and gasp. A short ways under the bed is my knife, the one that should have been under my pillow. It's a switchblade, but it's open. I wonder whether it simply fell from under my pillow while I tossed and turned in my sleep. I sit on my bed and grab a Kleenex to nurse the small cut on the bottom of my foot, scratching at the inside of my left arm. After cleaning up my foot, I glance at my arm to find a small messy line of what appears to be spattered and gasp. I can't have scratched myself _that_ hard, and I know so, because the blood has dried. _Maybe I did it in my sleep? As a teen, when stressed, I would grind my teeth and scratch myself to the point of bloodshed in my sleep…I'd been on Lorazepam for a while because of it_. I see the time again on my clock and rush into the shower and then my clothes. As I'm about to step out the front door, a significant chill and the sound of the rain greets me. I drop my purse on the stand under the mirror and rush towards the window in the kitchen. It's open _significantly _wider than I remember leaving it the day before. I stop in front of it and pull out the screen before sticking my head through the window and look up before looking down at the fire escape. The coast is clear, but it doesn't shake the fact that I'm _damn sure_ I didn't leave the window this far open. I replace the screen, close it and lock it, even pull down the curtain. I try to calm myself by thinking about the fact that I'm such a nervous wreck these days, I put something down and two seconds later have no idea where it was. Maybe I _did _open the window further and I just forgot about it. I hurry out of my apartment and decide there's not enough time to take the elevator; I can run down eight flights of steps much faster. As I plow through the door, I bump square into the chest of a man, who exhales shortly upon the impact. I am partially past him when I nearly fall face first down the stairs. I gasp, and he grabs my arm, saving me from tumbling, as I'm now standing on my toes above the stair case. I turn to re-orient myself, finding that he has also grabbed my purse when it fell off my shoulder.

"Oh my god—I'm so sorry," I mutter, my eyes still wide and my body in a state of confused shock. The man immediately lets go of my arm and turns his face away, so that I only get a quick glance. From behind a slate gray hoodie, I can tell that he has about shoulder length brown hair. He hands my purse back to me without looking at me and I take it hastily. I glance down at the arm that had grabbed me to find that the hand is hidden beneath a black glove, but as I glance at the other hand which is reaching for the handle again, I can see that it's naked and pale.

"I'm going to be late for work—I was rushing," I mumble, descending a step.

"It's okay, Amy," says the voice, which is gently deep and calm, and isn't the voice of any man I've spoken to on my floor. I hurry down the stairs as he walks through the door and disappears. I'm down to the sixth floor when I pause, even in my rush, to realize that we have never met, and that for two months, I haven't told my new name—_or_ nickname—to _anyone _except my landlord, a few select neighbors (all of which I know are not this man, despite me barely seeing his face), and my new boss. Fear grips my heart and I hurry the rest of the way down the stairs, running in the car park to my sedan, and speeding off to work. When I have driven for five silent minutes, I pause at a red light to whisper the truth to my own ears.

"Somebody found me."


	2. Chapter 2

At work, my hands don't stop shaking, so I have to pretend I need to use the restroom before setting up at the register. I splash cold water over my face, shaking noticeably. _Mikelle, don't panic. It's only going to drive you crazier if you do._ I think about the second Glock that I keep in the dashboard of my car. I had reached for it several times on the ride over here, eying pedestrians warily. Anyone who looked at me for more than two seconds was suspicious. I start to cry viciously, and shake. I just want out! I've been _so _careful, _so_ secretive. There's no reason they should have found me—not yet. I pace back and forth, calming myself. I then rip the sleeve of my right arm up so hard that I nearly tear the burgundy-red long sleeved shirt I'm wearing. I stare at my arm for a straight ten seconds before finding the small swell, a noticeable hole. For a moment, I'm reminded of the smeared blood from the Tuberculosis screening test I'd had to take some years ago as protocol, prior to working as a volunteer in a hospital; they hadn't bandaged the injection site, as it would have interfered with the test. I remember throwing my coat on right after the injection, and when I'd gotten back to my house to look at it, blood was smeared around my arm. But as I stare at the tiny aperture in my skin, I _know _it has nothing to do with Tuberculosis screening. _You cannot go back to that apartment…no, maybe you just scratched yourself too hard in your sleep._ Perhaps I'm over thinking. I take a handful of deep breaths before wiping my eyes and walking out of the bathroom with a smile on my face.

"Amy, you were supposed to be behind that register _ten_ minutes ago," my boss, Connor states with minor irritation.

"I know—I'm sorry. I woke up late. It won't happen again," I explain, rushing up behind the counter and unlocking the register. _But what about that stranger you'd never met before? You know how many people live on the eight floor, and you've never seen him nor heard his voice before, Mikelle! And Why did he turn his face away so abruptly? And how the fuck did he know your name?! Don't go home. Do not go home. _I nearly have a panic attack as I stand there, staring into space. It isn't until my coworker, Lucah, steps in front of my face with large hazel eyes that I snap out of it.

"Marvin Gaye or Beatles?" he asks for the second time, at which I finally hear him. I shake my head as he grabs the Beatles record anyway and goes to put it on the sound system. I spend the day on edge, looking over my shoulder, literally. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to think about going home when my day is over. There could be danger waiting there for me…_Apartment 808, the dream, the window, the guy in the stairwell?_ For all I know, there's an agent already _watching me_. _What if it's Lucah?_ And as he smiles at me, whistling along, I don't turn my back on him for a minute.

"Amy, you okay? …Is there a booger up my nose, or? …'Cause you're staring, and…" When he doesn't get an answer out of me, he continues about his business. As time passes and the music plays, a few people walking in and out without buying a thing, I start to relax. It starts feeling like any other day. Maybe there is no one after me and maybe I'm going to be alright if I go home. _Mikelle, you've made it just about two months without any run ins…you're just overreacting._ I sigh and close my eyes for a long moment, still trying to figure out how I'm feeling _so _tired, yet I managed to sleep for ten fucking minutes through my alarm clock…the bell above the front door tolls, signaling a new customer.

"Hello," Lucah chimes at whoever it is that walked in, and I feel him breeze past me around the front of the counter to go organize the indie rock section. Whoever it is that Lucah greeted, they don't respond. At least not verbally. So I open my eyes. Slowly walking down the country rock section is a man in a baseball cap and sunglasses. It's still raining outside, and there's no reason he could possibly need sunglasses. He wears a black denim jacket, and I can't see the half of him below the elbow from where he's standing. As he scans through some albums with his right hand, I'm unsure whether he's looking at the albums, or at me; his sunglasses are tinted way too darkly to tell. After a moment, I lean over the counter to glance at Lucah, who has decided to start singing along to the music he'd put on for the day. My boss steps out and greets the stranger, asks him if he needs help finding anything. The man merely looks up, removes his sunglasses, tucks them into the collar of his shirt, and looks at my boss for a moment, almost as if he didn't understand him. He shakes his head slowly. I can't tell from the hat what he really looks like. It seems to be hiding the upper half of his face in darkness. My boss looks at him oddly for a moment before bringing a crate of CDs towards Lucah, giving him orders to put them somewhere, and I zone out. The man flipping slowly through albums looks at me. I look right back at him, and he narrows his eyes. My boss passes between us and I shift my gaze as he moves back into the back room. The man is still staring at me. At this point, I go deaf to the world and all I can hear is my heart beating. He's clean shaven, with large eyes, which from across the room and the shade of his hat, I can't tell the colour of. The bell above the store door tolls again and two guys walk in. The man's gaze passes over to them for an instant before he continues on, further down the aisle. The two men who walked in don't really look like the type of people we usually get as customers here, not that only certain people visit record shops…but as I watch their odd behaviour as they begin to chat back and forth, I hone in on the fact that they aren't speaking English. Whatever it is they're saying, it's clear to me that they don't entirely wish to be heard. One of them starts around in the same direction from which the other stranger had come down the country aisle, the other heading straight for my register. He grins at me, but something about the thin-lipped gesture seems false to me. He's reaching into his coat. I take a step back from the register, putting enough distance between us so that he can't grab me at arm's length.

"Mikelle," he says, still smiling, before he says something else in what sounds to me like Ukrainian, maybe. My heart jumps, as it's clear he knows who I am. He pulls out a badge and holds it up so that I can see it. It looks like some sort of official police ID, perhaps, but I've carried enough fake IDs to know better than to believe half of what I see. He continues to speak to me in some random language, and I haven't the slightest idea what he's saying. At S.H.I.E.L.D., I had made use of French, Arabic, Portuguese, and Farsi for my missions. I tell him in English that I don't understand him. The other guy walks up to the register and tries to speak to me, his English somewhat broken.

"Your parents…dead. Assist you come with us."

"How did you know my name?…Who are you? How did you know my parents are dead?"

The first guy who spoke to me slowly peels open his jacket, enough so that I can see the gun he's carrying. He speaks to me again in some random language and I respond by telling him to leave the store. Finally, the capped stranger who'd locked eyes with me approaches. He says something to them, and again, I don't understand anyone. I glance to my right where I can barely see Lucah distracted near the front window. He has no idea what's going on here.

"No harm," says the first guy. I shake my head slowly, narrowing my eyes, backing up even further. The capped stranger says something to the two men again, and the second one turns to snap at him in what appears to be anger.

"_Leave_," I decree, but deep down I am scared shitless. The first man sighs and places both his hands on the register after pocketing the badge he'd shown me. He then whips out the gun and points it right at me.

"Come. Now, Mikelle," he says clearly. At this point, I scream and then there is sudden movement as the capped stranger slams into the man pointing a gun at me. The second one exclaims in agitation and pulls his own weapon from the confines of his coat. My boss rushes out, and just in time, is shot by the stranger on the spot before he can even ask what's going on. The bell above the front door tolls and Lucah makes a run for it, the second stranger shooting straight through the front window and missing him, causing a shower of glass to cascade on the floor inside the store and on the pavement outside. The gunman then turns to the man in a cap, who shoots the man he'd tackled before shooting the second stranger right between the eyes. I want to make a run for it, but the counter only allows me out in one direction, one in which I wouldn't make it past the capped stranger, and the back room from which my boss emerged has no doors or windows. Deep down, I _knew_ this day would come, and I lean back against the wall and wait for the capped stranger to shoot me. I start to cry. He's staring at the bodies on the floor. He walks over to them and shoots each body twice more to ensure death. I start begging, crying, choking on my own words. This man is going to kill me. He then points the gun at me, approaching the counter of the register. I weep and as he gets closer, he slowly points the gun down, and just looks at me for a solid, painstaking five seconds, my boss bleeding out of the head on the floor at my feet, the red fluid creeping closer and closer to my gray shoes by the second. The capped stranger disappears from my sight as he reaches down to take what I think might be wallets off the two men who tried to coerce me to go with them. After he clears their pockets, he places the gun slowly on the counter top. He spares me a final glance before hurrying out of the store without a word. Having no idea what just happened, and praying that Lucah has run far enough away by now, I fumble into my pocket for my phone to dial 911. As I urgently recite the address of my workplace, I already know everyone around me is dead on the floor.

When the police notify me that there was nothing found on the suspects, not even fingerprints—they had previously burned those off—I know for a fact that these men _had_ to have worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra, or _something_. But I can't help myself much by telling the police this. For all I know, they _are_ the agents that must be looking for me. I can't trust anyone. Wishing desperately that I had a friend, I hurry back into my apartment and lock the door. I fade until I can't be seen, and I stay that way, silently huddled in the corner against the refrigerator on the floor, crying to myself. _Who the fuck was that man? Why did he look at me like that? He just looked at me. It was eerie…like the dream I'd had the previous night, the masked figure looking down at me. _I have no idea what to think or do, but my job has been compromised, and I won't go back there. It's a crime scene now, anyway. I spend the next few days lying low and silent in my apartment, occasionally peeking out through the peephole to glance down at apartment 808. The door remains shut and I know not what is going on there. I just can't shake the feeling that something _is _going on in there. I cannot bring myself to want to be seen, and as I shower, I allow only my arm to be visible as I inspect it again. I swear there was a tiny hole there. Then again, I'm the kind of person who gets allergies so badly, that I dream of hives and wake up with false ones almost every spring. Things like that have happened to me since I was a kid. _Pull it together, Mikelle._ A week after my boss's death, I finally set foot out of my apartment. Phillips occasionally leaves the rooftop door open so that I can go up there to stargaze when I can't sleep, meditate when I need a break from the world. As I carry my mat up the stairs to the roof, I try not to keep looking over my shoulder, as if somebody is literally lurking in the shadows to grab me at any moment. I can't keep living like this. I have to find a way out, for real…I was inches away from death last week. A smart person would have skipped town by now. But part of me doesn't want to keep running. If they found me in a matter of two months, who was to say they wouldn't do it again two months—two _weeks_—from now? I know that there is no truthful escape, and as I sit trying to breathe and rid my mind under the sun that is just beginning to set, I can't let go enough to relax. After about ten minutes of trying to ease my mind, I roll up my mat and start for the rooftop door. Just as I swing it open, there stands a man with shoulder length brown hair, large blue eyes. He's wearing the same slate gray hoodie as the guy who had caught me before I fell down the stairs the other morning. I start to back up, and as I back up, he steps towards me.

"Who are you…? What _is that_?!" I ask, my eyes widening at the silvery-looking glove on his left hand. I start to recognize him as the capped stranger from the store, and then I know I'm in deep shit. I throw my mat in his face and go invisible in a split second. The mat doesn't distract him, as he lunges forth and grabs me, undaunted. I scream and struggle in his arms, looking at them to find the cold metal hand gripping my invisible forearm, and it looks like he's catching on nothing. I muster all of my strength and manage to pry him off me using every ounce of my mind, which nearly knocks me out, and as I fall on the ground, nose bleeding, I know he can see me again. That's the thing about the telekinesis, it makes me weaker if I use it, so that I can't sustain the invisibility very long.

"Stop!" he shouts. I go invisible again, but the rocks skewing beneath my feet don't help me, as the man eyes them and runs to catch me in the circle where I've tried to move around him. I use the telekinesis again and fade back into a visible state once more. I've done it so hard this time, that instead of knocking him down, I go flying back and find myself clutching the edge of the roof. I glance down below me where death awaits fifteen flights down. Before I have the chance to try and hoist myself up, something cold has a hold of my arm, and I feel myself being lifted skywards. My eyes widen and the breath is knocked out of me from shock. The stranger pulls me up with utter ease, lets me dangle there for five terrifying seconds, tilting his head to the side to stare at me with a blank expression as I scream. He then guides me back over the ledge. The blood rushes down over my lips now. I rip his heels out from under his body, before falling head first over my own…

A pressure is being applied to my nose as I slowly come to. I glance up into the same blue eyes, like surprised oceans, hovering over me. And then I scream and try to sit up. My head rushes and the stranger leads me back down. The towel he was holding to my nose mere seconds ago drops and I can see that it's covered in my blood. Pressure is applied to my chest, and he forces me to lie back down, wherever I am. My eyes widen, and even though my vision is double and blurry, I can tell he's got a _metal arm_, and I scream.

"_Shhhh_," he hushes me violently.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Mikelle."

"How do you know my name? Who the _fuck_ are you?" The metallic hand overpowers me, and I am too weak to fight back anyway, my head searing with pain as I groan.

"Easy," he says, pressing a cold towel to my head. I shake it and swat at his hand weakly. The hand toweling my forehead feels like normal skin as I grip it, before digging my nails into it. He winces at the minor attack. I roll off of a couch with a _slam_, my name echoing in my ears when he says it again.

"Don't touch me," I breathe. But as I strive to crawl towards a door, his legs block my path and I feel him lift me bodily and carry me into another room.

"No," I breathe, barely able to see, barely able to hear. I start crying, unconvinced that I'm going to be alright.

"Please…_please_," I weep. He doesn't say a word. Instead, I feel myself being placed atop a hard surface, a countertop, maybe. The stranger injects me with something, at which I wince. And slowly, but surely, I am out like a light again. When I come to the second time, he is sitting at the end of the table, at my feet, staring out the window at the rain. I slowly begin to sit up, just my upper body, so that he won't hear me. My headache has subsided a lot, but I know I've lost a great deal of blood. All of my clothes are on, luckily, and I don't feel any different. I'm almost certain this man hasn't raped me, as everything looks and feels intact. He'd taken my shoes off, though. He's clad in the hoodie still, and a pair of jeans. He sighs and his head falls forward as he stares down at something. I hesitate a moment before I kick him in the side of the head. He grunts, caught off guard, but barely flinches. The fact that my blow barely bothers him frightens me even further as I slide up off the counter and stumble to my feet. I try to run for the door, and find that I am still too weak. The stranger catches me about the waist, shouting at me to calm down, that he's not going to hurt me. I get so hectic that he simply lifts me up off my feet until I stop struggling. I cry helplessly.

"What did you do to me?!" I demand, unable to get my limbs free from his tight grip.

"Ow! Let go of me!" I scream.

"Just…_stop_," he barks into my ear, which sends eerie shivers down my spine.

"I'm not going to hurt you. If I wanted you dead, I would have dropped you right off that roof, wouldn't I?" he asks. I stops struggling, but he doesn't let go.

"Are you going to scream or try to kick me again? If you're going to keep _screaming_, I'm going to have to knock you out," he promises. I shake my head vehemently, hardly able to breathe from the way he's squeezing me. Finally, he releases me and I rush forth, whipping around and assuming a fighting stance, although I am trembling to the core. He smiles without teeth, seemingly amused at my determination to fight him off. This scares me. He takes a step towards me. I put out my hand defensively.

"No—_stay right there_. Do _not touch me_. What did you inject me with?" I ask furiously.

"It was just a little bit of morphine. Relax."

"_Relax_! What the fuck did you do to me, you liar?" I bark. He brings a finger to his lips.

"If you don't stop screaming, then I _will _hurt you." I run for the door, but he grabs me around the waist again before I can make it.

"They sent you—Hydra—I know it! You're going to kill me, aren't you?" I weep. I stop struggling just to cry helplessly.

"_Yes_, they sent me, and _no_, I am not going to kill you, Mikelle."

"What do you _want_? I'm not doing it anymore, I got out. I can't do it anymore, I don't want to be lied to anymore," I cry, barely making any sense.

"I saved your life just now. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't still be breathing," he says, and as I eye the metallic arm restricting my hands, I know this to be true.

"Please…then let me go."

"You've already been compromised. If you scream _again_, I can't promise someone won't burst through that door and kill you."

"Okay—okay, I won't."

Slowly, the stranger releases me. I whip around to face him, creating space between us.

"Mikelle, just calm down, please."

"_Stop saying my name_," I state angrily. He corners me against a wall, but keeps his distance.

"This isn't the first time I saved you…Last week, I jeopardized a mission where I was meant to bring you back to Hydra. I was supposed to collect you. Your parents, I think you know about them now. They wanted you to follow in their path. But when you ran away, Hydra sent me to find you."

"_What__—__did__—__you__—__inject__—__me__—__with_?" I ask angrily.

"I already told you. Now sit down," he says, menacingly pointing to the couch. I step slowly past him and sit there.

"Were you in my apartment? Did you do something to me?" I ask demandingly.

"If you don't tell me now, I'll scream again," I threaten. The man reaches for a file on the coffee table and thrusts it before me.

"I had to confirm you were who they said you were. I needed a hair sample, saliva…they wanted to be sure I was tracking the right woman."

"_Tracking_?" I seethe, ripping the file out of his metal hand. He eyes me hesitantly as I flip through it. There are pictures of me leaving the apartment complex, getting into my car at the supermarket. In fear and disgust, I throw the file down on the table after one minute of looking at it.

"I know you find this hard to believe," the stranger starts, "But I didn't do anything to hurt you. If anything, I bought you some time—"

"Then what was it you injected me with while I slept? It made me late for work," I state as calmly as I can. He looks away and crosses his arms with what appears to be irritation.

"Benzodiazepine. All I did was make sure you stayed asleep while I took samples…you shouldn't leave your window open. Even if it hadn't been open, it's not like I wouldn't have found a way in."

Suddenly I feel so violated that all I want to do is vomit.

"Well, if you _saved_ me, you better make sure you stay out of my way now. I don't want _anything_ to do with Hydra, you hear me?" I explain, standing. But as he steps towards me, fear entraps me and I nearly trip backwards.

"I'm going to go now. I'm going to go pack the essentials and disappear. And you're going to stay the fuck away from me," I explain carefully. With every step I take back, the stranger approaches me. He narrows his eyes.

"No, you're not. Not only are _you _in danger now, Mikelle—"

"Stop using my name—"

"But I've compromised myself as well. I killed two colleagues. They'll be suspicious of me now."

"…Then why did you wipe their IDs before the police could get there?"

"I was having second thoughts…I wasn't sure whether I wanted to do it. But you just looked so…innocent. I've seen things…Hydra has done things to me. They took me when I thought I was meant for dead and made me into…this. I thought they might do the same to you. I've been having flashbacks, and I know I used to be somebody…I guess I didn't want to see the same thing happen to someone else. You faked your own death to get away. There must have been a reason."

"Just let me leave, and we'll go our separate ways, and—"

"They'll find you in a matter of days when those two agents don't report back. They were supposed to have done so a few hours ago. The point was to try and persuade you into coming back. So unless you want to die, you'd better stick with me."

"But you…you killed your own teammates. They're going to be after _you_. How am I safe with _you_? What _is _your name anyway, asshole?"

He glares at me.

"James. James Barnes."

A light goes off in my head as I stare at him.

"Somebody's looking for you," I explain.

"I know," he says, turning away from me.

"When S.H.I.E.L.D. went down, I saved him…he said he knew me…" the man trails off and paces, and I can barely understand him as he mutters in that odd language again, almost maniacally. As he is distracted, I run for the door. He blocks me in a matter of seconds and I run towards the window where I start to pull it open and scream out of it, scream for help. I manage to look down and scare a few passersby on the streets below, before I feel something cold grip the back of my neck. His metal fingers deprive my brain of oxygen and the last thing I see is the floor…

I'm moving slightly. It's dark. I open my eyes to find that I can't move my hands; they're cuffed in my lap. I turn my head and finally make out the man's figure as he drives. I can tell we're going at a fast pace, over the speed limit. His metal hand is on the wheel, and there's a gun in his right hand. I shiver and tears leak out of my eyes, but I don't let on that I'm awake. I simply stare at him for a handful of minutes. When I finally move to sit up, he slows down noticeably and points the gun at me instinctually. He puts it down slowly, without taking his eyes off the road.

"You were screaming too loud. I had to shut you up. Seconds later, there were bullets flying through the windows. I told you not to scream," he says in a displeased manner. I lean against the window, as far away from him as possible.

"Why are you doing this? Why don't you just let me go?!"

He spares me a hard-to-read glance. He doesn't answer me.

"Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer me. He switches the gun to his metal hand, placing the right one on the wheel. I start to cry silently.

"He said he knew me," he says distantly.

"I'm going to find him."

"Just let me g—"

"_Shut up!_" he growls, and I jump, keeping my distance as best I can. It's clear to me then that he's not very stable. I am helpless as I sit there, as he drives off into the night.

The sun is up and I find myself being moved again. I gaze up into his eyes and struggle when he tries to lift me out of the car. He rescinds his hands in a manner as if to surrender. He stares down at me before producing a key from his pocket. I look around, not knowing where the hell I am, but the climate is much different than it had been where I was living. I spot a motel sign in the near distance. Something touches my wrists and I gasp and pull away, turning to find James kneeling in front of me.

"I'm going to take these off," he says calmly, "You shouldn't try to make a scene or run away, or I can't protect you."

"Protect _me_? You _are _the threat," I spit. He ignores me and unlocks the handcuffs. As he does so, I notice that he's fixed a black glove over his metal hand, to conceal it.

"Easy," he says. I step out of the car, parched, and weak. He thrusts a bottle of water into my hands, and I follow him to a room where he unlocks the door and allows me inside first before closing and locking it. I spot something edible on the table and rush towards it, feeling like I'm going to pass out. He stands at the door and crosses his arms, as if guarding it, watching me. I stare right back at him, pausing in devouring a sandwich.

"Where the _fuck _did you take me? How do I know you're not still going to deliver me straight to Hydra?"

"Because I escaped. They have no idea where I am now."

"You don't know that," I spit before continuing to eat. He has this menacing air about him that frightens me, but I try not to let on how scared I really am.

"After what I did at the store, they've marked me as the enemy. I'm no longer a threat to you, Mikelle."

I sigh and throw the sandwich down.

"Stop calling me that."

He averts his gaze a moment. I stare at him and the only thing I hear is the clock ticking.

"Do you remember Steve Rogers?" I ask after the silence has made me uncomfortable. He looks at me.

"Do you know where I can find him? I can't remember…I remember _some things_…but not much."

"I don't know where he is now, but he's looking for you," I explain before grabbing an apple and starting on it. James shifts at the door, turning to glance out the window, both of which have the shades closed. He doesn't say anything else. I eat until I'm full, and then I rush into the bathroom and close and lock the door. I spot a window above the shower, but it's too small to fit through, and I give up the hope of escaping this madman. I can hear him walk around outside the door and it scares me. He steps away after a moment, and I'm trembling. I find a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, the tags still on them, folded on top of the sink, and then it's clear to me that he doesn't plan on letting me go. I'm trapped.


	3. Chapter 3

When I step out of the shower, the door is still closed and locked, to my relief. I scramble to dry off and hurry into the clothes that are there, bunching up my previous outfit and leaving the clothes in a pile on top of the sink. I stare at myself in the mirror, my eyes are red from crying. I've thought about offing myself several times since I faked my death. How can I possibly lead a fulfilling life while constantly looking over my shoulder? And now that I'm trapped with a lunatic, there's really nothing more I can do. My brown eyes look sleepy. When I open the door, I don't see the soldier at first, but then something rises from between the two twin beds in the room. I catch a quick glimpse of his body before it ducks back down. It pops up from between the twin beds again, and as I leave the bathroom slowly, it becomes clear that he's doing pushups on the floor. His hair is strewn sweatily to his forehead, and the metallic arm glimmers under the lamplight. His grunting is almost animalistic, and he doesn't appear at all aware that I've stood at the foot of one of the beds to stare at him. His shirt gone, beads of sweat ripple down his ribs and drip onto the floor. I think about running towards the door, but the sight of him in concentration seems to stop me. If I weren't afraid for my life, I would have thought him to be…arousing.

"What do you want with me, really? I'm not a spy anymore," I explain, crossing my arms. The solider rises slowly and stops, resting upon brawny arms in silence. He stands up slowly to face me, and that menacing air envelops me once more. I step back until I'm in a corner.

"You were," he says. A bead of sweat drips down his chest, and my eyes follow it. It would have been so easy for him to strangle me to death, and I imagine this in slight apprehension as I swallow with difficulty.

"You're going to help me find him. He said he knew me," he says again, his voice like an echo, repetitive and lost. He inhales deeply and his chest rises, falling with the deep exhale. My heart skips a beat.

"I don't have a clue where he is now."

"You knew other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. You'll find a way."

"And if I don't?"

He's silent, and simply stares at me before sitting down on the bed and staring off into the distance stolidly.

"Hydra wants you for a reason. If you leave, they will find you. I know how they operate. I can keep them off your tail," he says, before sending me a smoldering gaze, "If you help me find Rogers."

"So, if I don't help you, you'll leave me for dead? I'm sure I can take care of myself," I state, starting for the door.

"I could have killed you so many times, Mikelle," he says. And I pause with my hand on the knob of the door.

"In your sleep. How do you think I learned all about you? That night you almost caught me wasn't the first time I got into your apartment."

Fear grips me, and when I turn around, he's already right behind me. I gasp as he clasps my shoulders.

"Just…help me," he says, his eyes pleading, but the sinister expression not having faded.

"You better not touch me," I bark, scrambling from under his grasp and walking back across the room.

"Where are we now?" I ask.

"Nevada. Not far from the border of California."

He would have to have sedated me for that long of a drive, coming down from Seattle. The thought crosses my mind and I cringe.

"If I help you find Steve, you have to let me go, and I never want to hear from you, or Hydra, or any other bastards that might be after me, ever again," I snarl. He just looks at me, and that danger fills the room as he walks into the bathroom. I sit on one of the beds and pull my knees to my chest, trying to think my way out of this. I wouldn't dare try to use telekinesis again and risk being rendered helpless. I can tell from behind the closed windows that the sun is going down. I spot my wallet on the table and get up to grab it. He'd had time to stop in my apartment? I open it to find that nothing seems to be missing. There's also a laptop sitting under the light of the lamp. As I press the button to start it up, the screen shines on, and I find that there are what appears to be cameras recording some place…the red couch in my apartment comes into view. And with shock, another frame shows me in the kitchen. I manage to mess around enough to rewind and come across some actual footage. I can see the top of my head as I sit at my kitchen table, spinning the gun I'd kept in the silverware drawer. This footage is from the previous week. I watch myself get up to go stare through the peephole of my front door, the top of my head disappearing from view as I step out of range. The metal hand slams the computer shut and I glance to the side to find the soldier standing there. His eyes are wide and unsure, and he's dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his waist. He eyes my wallet.

"As soon as you went up on the roof, I grabbed some of your things. I meant to disappear with you before anyone else came to check in on my mission."

"How many of those cameras were there? …How long were you watching me?!" I scream. And as I turn to look him square in the eyes, I throw my palm across his cheek. He turns back to me slowly.

"I asked you a fucking question!" I bark, slapping him again and again, until he finally grips my throat with that cold, hard hand, and slowly, my toes are the only thing touching the floor. He walks forth until my back is against the wall, letting me drag down it a bit until we're at eye level. This crazed look replaces any sign of sanity on his face, and he blinks as if he's confused, like he doesn't realize he's strangling me. Slowly, his hand gives way as I grab his head in both hands. He lets go of my throat, but slams his metal arm against the wall, blocking my exit.

"The flashbacks…they're almost like dreams—like things I know happened. But I can't remember," he says with frustration, slamming his fist into the wall beside me and I flinch. He pulls the metal arm out of a small hole that now sits open there. The water from his hair drips onto my bare arm and I gasp, turning my head away from his gaze, which suddenly fixes on me again.

"I couldn't," he says with some distraction.

"Did you touch me…while I slept?" I ask, closing my eyes tightly, "How long have you been watching me?" I ask, and he doesn't say a word, but I can feel his breath on my face. I open my eyes to find the soldier gazing at me intently, his blue eyes tracing my face repetitively.

"I…" he starts. I slowly look at him again, his face ever nearer to my own.

"Answer my question," I beg quietly, on the verge of tears. His gaze shifts nervously down, and I suddenly feel as if I am naked.

"I wanted to," he admits, and the look on his face is as if he's looking at something he wants to eat. I muster my strength and push against his chest, but only for a handful of seconds before the warmth beneath my fingers is too comforting to let go of.

"But I didn't," he admits in almost a whisper. I grab at his human arm and try to push it off the wall to create an opening from the trap that is his body, but it swoops around my middle, the metallic arm following suit, until I'm pressed full against his body, his eyes bearing down into mine excitedly.

"I never touched you, Mikelle," he decrees. But he had wanted to. The metallic hand makes contact with the skin of my lower back as it slips beneath the shirt and I gasp, my mouth falling open, and the soldier grasps the opportunity to press his lips full against mine. I gasp into his open mouth, sucking away his breath. I push defensively, yet halfheartedly, against his shoulders, before I give in and exhale under his lips. Of course he had touched me, to get those DNA samples. I'm no longer sure whether he'd done anything more, but as I yield to the kiss that quickly grows passionate between us, I'm not sure I even care. The next thing I know, my legs are wrapped around his waist as he carries me towards one of the beds. He leads me back on it gently, not breaking the kiss. Once he lets up to allow me to catch my breath, I glare as the tears drip out of my eyes.

"How long were you watching me?" I ask. His body pressed up against mine, the towel being the only thing separating his nudity from me, the soldier stares down into my eyes. The gaze chills my soul. He looks lost, desperate.

"A little over two weeks," he admits. I bring my hand down harshly across his cheek again, and the metallic hand restrains my wrist. I try helplessly to lift it in order to hit him again.

"You're disgusting," I spit, but I can't lift my hand, no matter how hard I struggle. He presses his lips to mine again, and I bite him. He groans in slight pain before coaxing my mouth open and snaking his tongue inside. As I cry, I moan under the heat of his mouth, feeling violated, yet turned on at the same time. I stop struggling against his metallic hand and he releases it. I dust my fingers down his torso and release my nervous grip on his waist, my legs relaxing enough to allow him even closer between them. The kiss deepens and I shyly lick back at his invading tongue.

"When I saw how beautiful you were, how special," he breathes, detaching his mouth enough to let me breathe, "I couldn't let Hydra anywhere near you. It didn't feel right," he says, scanning my face again. I haven't been this close to anyone, man or otherwise, in almost a year; I'd broken up with my previous beau ages ago, after it was found that he was also a double agent. I had thought I was going to marry him, but when a mission sent me to stop him, he gave me no choice but to take his life. The tears continue to cascade out of my eyes. James's expression softens and I gasp when the metallic digits make contact with the rim of my right eye, wiping the tears away.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Mikelle. I just need your help."

"I know," I breathe.

"Did you lie?" I ask, closing my eyes.

"No," he says indifferently. I feel his lips make contact with my forehead as he continues to speak.

"I wanted to, but I didn't," he explains again. Regardless, he had already seen me half naked, and the thought causes my heart to pump blood faster.

"So badly," he whispers, his human hand traveling down to tug at the waistband of my pants. I let my head fall back and he kisses my neck so sweetly, that a small moan escapes me. I grip the bionic arm and it's hard and cool under my warm hand. I had grabbed it before in my sleep…it wasn't a dream. His breath catches as I travel my fingers slowly up his arm, testing it. The limb is strong, and though I can't tell by lifting it, I know it's heavy. He could crush me like a fly if he wanted to, but for some reason, it doesn't scare me at all. I think I knew all along that he wasn't going to hurt me, at least not in a bad way. There is a moment where I stare up into his eyes and he stares down into mine, my fingers wrapping around the elbow. I know he can feel my touch as he closes his eyes with what looks like some kind of relief, the long brown lashes fluttering on the lids as they roll back in his skull. I know by the look on his face that this is the first time the soldier is touching me this way. He suddenly pulls the towel from between us and tugs the sweatpants down my legs. I don't object as he slips his hardened length against me, begging for entrance. I reach down and swat his hand out of the way, and it comes crashing down on the other side of me, where he holds himself up in anticipation, the eyes blinking shut again, tongue sliding across his lips. Though I'm only slightly wet, I manage to guide him inside of me. He shudders, his body quaking desperately on top of me, and then he slams down into me, lodging his hardened cock deep inside me. As his torso makes contact with my stomach against the t-shirt, I groan, not having expected the slight sting and forceful widening sensation as he fills me thickly. The both of us gasping for breath, he opens his eyes again, staring down at me. And then he gives a rough thrust. I dig into his lower back and moan painfully. He pauses a moment, to see if I'll protest, but I grip him tighter and sway my waist up against his body, his abdomen restricting my movement when he thrusts again, until he's fucking me with no inhibitions. It's almost an angry thrust, but it's more pleasurable than painful. I haven't been fucked in almost an entire year. The way the soldier takes me is damn near violent, but I like it.

"Oh…god," I breathe, trying to brace myself for each blow, my hands travelling back to his shoulders and gripping them. He begins to moan after a solid minute of simply breathing and sighing, our noises filling the room. I turn my head and dig my teeth into his fleshy arm in an attempt to quiet myself. He moans pleasurably, slowing from the rough slamming pace to gently roll and glide his hips between my legs, edging out my orgasm, as I had begun to clench tightly around him. I grip frantically at his back, the sinewy feeling of it sending electrical shocks through my fingertips. He's strong and warm, and the pressure of his body forcing me down against the quilt is comforting in a way I'd dearly missed. I feel safe for the first time in two months, my cunt trembling desperately all around his thickness. I place my chin on his shoulder, panting, trying to match my breaths in time with the soldier's, but his breathing forces my body down even more, and I am completely out of control. I begin sobbing out of the sheer pleasure I feel rippling through my core as he drives me closer to my orgasm. I bury my lips against his clavicle, biting at the collar bone gently. He picks up the pace again, kissing my forehead, pinning my right hand down and out of control again. I'm sopping wet now, aroused to the highest degree. I get that funny feeling inside me, almost like I have to pee, and I almost tell him to stop, but then my orgasm hits me like a bomb and my whole body writhes beneath him. After I moan out loud, I let my head fall back, panting and crying at the same time. The soldier grunts with finality, flooding me with his heated seed. I push my hands repeatedly and gratefully through his hair, and he lets all his weight down on me, exhausted and spent. His shoulder covers my mouth, making it difficult to catch my breath, but I don't want the pressure of his body to release me just yet. I trail my fingers up and down his spine, massaging the powerful back deeply. He moans again, slowly lifting himself to pull out. I reach up to wrap my arms around him, not wanting him to leave. He looks at me apologetically, but I don't even care. He lies gently on me as I grip his face, which is actually more beautiful than menacing, between my hands. He kisses me messily, and I like it. I had been enjoying this from the moment he wrapped those metallic fingers around my neck.


	4. Chapter 4

Three Weeks Later

Three weeks ago, I would not have thought I'd wake up with a metal arm wrapped around my waist. The Winter Soldier breathes behind me peacefully in his sleep, and I can hear the honking and speeding of cars outside the balcony down below in the streets. I start to sit up slowly, unable to lift the weight of the metallic arm, which has grown warm from resting against my naked skin for the past seven hours. I try to slip out of the hold, only to wake him. He pulls me closer, spooning my back possessively.

"Kelly," he breathes apprehensively, moaning sleepily before kissing the back of my head.

"Stay," he whispers. My spine shivers as I reach for my vibrating phone on the nightstand.

"Can't. Fury needs me. Something came up," I explain, having finally missed the call that woke me up in the first place. James groans.

"Let Steve or Falcon respond. It's Sunday," he mumbles tiredly.

"I have _three_ missed calls," I explain, attempting to pull his arm from around my waist again; it doesn't budge.

"I don't want you to go, Mikelle…it's our day off. You _promised_."

"It might be an emergency," I explain seriously, "Nick just wants to see me—no one else." The soldier sighs and rolls over, taking the covers with him so that I'm naked and exposed in the early summer air. Weeks ago, I had made some calls, found a way to get into contact with ex-agents I knew I could still trust. I'd kept up my end of the bargain and helped James find Steve, but to my slight dismay, I couldn't follow through on the whole never wanting to hear from James again aspect. He turned out to be someone I could trust. He could have handed me over to Hydra the moment he'd started tracking me, before we ever actually met. But he didn't. I'd always told myself, especially after my fiancé, that it was dangerous to fall in love. At first it had been the result of countless heartbreaks I'd had as a teen and in my early twenties, but when I started working for S.H.I.E.L.D., it _literally _turned out to be dangerous to fall in love. People could turn on you at any moment, and anyone you thought you loved could turn out to be a complete and total lie. Like my parents. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive that. I'll never be able to forgive my biological parents, either, whoever they are (or were), for abandoning me. But as I stand and stretch, gazing down at the man I'm helplessly in love with as he continues to sleep, I thank God for that. Our paths probably never would have crossed otherwise. I yawn before crawling back into bed to kiss what is exposed of The Winter Soldier's back. He flinches a moment, before his muscles relax under my lips. He moans pleasantly.

"Go away. I hate you," he grumbles. I laugh, massaging into his neck. His body is a work of art. Of the few lovers I've ever had, he is the best. He rolls onto his stomach so that I can straddle him and easily massage his back and arms.

"I'm sorry," I whisper before pushing the brown locks out of the way to kiss his neck sweetly.

"I'll make it up to you when I get back. Promise."

He's silent as I rest upon him for a moment. I push my hand through his hair a final time before getting up. I close the balcony doors and rush to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, throwing on some clean clothes before making my way out of the flat we've been living in for the past two weeks. I never would have thought to call Paris home, but it's really starting to feel that way as I drive to the location in which Fury is waiting for me. When I meet him at a park on a bench, he's holding a file. I take a deep breath, expecting the worst, some sort of mission, but he simply grins and tells me that it's all about me this time, information I might want to know. We've been working on my problem with telekinesis. Fury had even been able to reach out to Bruce Banner to see if he might be able to help me with the problem. We had been trying to recover information on the research I had been involved in at S.H.I.E.L.D., but most of it had been permanently disposed of before Romanoff leaked all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets. I had tried a new serum Banner thought might help two weeks ago, but it had only resulted in side effects so severe that I couldn't continue using it. It hadn't been effective in my honest opinion, anyway. I still haven't told James about it either; he'd simply thought when I was sneezing my head off, coughing my lungs up, and passing out that I'd had an extremely bad head cold. While he nursed me back to health, that's the moment I realized I had fallen in love with him. Something changed. Even while he was spending so much time getting to re-acquaint himself with Steve, going through his own breakdowns as his memory kept returning, bad ones of Hydra haunting him, he'd found the time to care about what was happening to me. There'd been a minor mission here and there, with Steve and others, but we were lying low. So far as I know, we've been off of Hydra's radar for a while. James's bionic arm requires occasional maintenance, which seems to amuse and occupy the time of Tony Stark and Banner whenever they get around to paying a visit, either for a mission, or on request from Fury. I guess James and I have sort of joined the team. Each of us are still having our own difficulties, but we're getting better, and I know it's because we can trust each other. Despite how short our relationship has been, I know this.

"Banner's been working on another serum, one that might not have so many effects. It could work. We could really use someone of your caliber if your mind can be made strong enough to move things without all the incapacitating side effects. I'll give you a call as soon as it's ready for trial." As I sit on the bench where Fury had been moments ago and finally peel open the file, I find myself learning something I hadn't ever known. My smile slowly fades as I read about the research that had been done involving the telekinesis I can barely tap into now. Not only was I initially under the belief that my foster parents were my real parents, but I was never even actually born. Not in the way that normal people are; I was conceived in vitro and basically cultivated without ever having been implanted in utero. Things like this didn't happen, to the best of my knowledge. I had been a science experiment from the start. There's no real information on my biological parents, who the donors were. Somebody obviously never wanted me to learn this information. I sigh, unsure how to feel about it. I start back to the flat, feeling…blank. I'm tired of surprises. I'm tired of constantly figuring out that more and more of my history, of my life, is a lie. I pause at the front door, stuffing the file Fury had given me under the welcome mat. I don't want to tell James any of this. He's already dealing with picking up the pieces of his own life. Why should I throw all of mine his way? When I open the door, however, he catches me wiping my eyes on the back of my hands, pausing at the stove where he stands in his boxers, making eggs. His smile quickly fades as I turn away, but I know it's too late to hide what I'm really feeling.

"Kelly?" he says. My shoulders quiver as a sob physically racks my body. I throw my bag on the coat rack and start towards the bathroom just as I feel him begin to grip my waist from behind. _I am a lie. I'm not even a real person. What was done to me before I was even born to make what I can do possible?_James follows me, undaunted. His warm hand grips my wrist. I turn back a second to catch the worried look in his ocean-like eyes before pulling my arm away and closing the bathroom door in his face. I lock it. The handle jiggles before he knocks.

"Kelly, don't scare me," he begs, his voice calm, nonetheless.

"James…I'm _fine_. Just leave me alone," I call through the closed door after a moment of silence. I can tell that he hasn't moved an inch as I wash my hands and splash cold water on my face.

"I was a jerk this morning…I didn't mean any of that. You know I love you."

And his words just make me cry even harder, but not because they upset me. I simply yearn to hear them from my parents, even if just one more time, but for _real_. I muffle myself with my hands and sit on the ledge of the tub.

"It's not that," I sob in response.

"…Was it Nick? What did he say to you?" James asks. I stop crying audibly and wipe my eyes. He knocks again.

"Mikelle."

I take a deep breath.

"Go away," I state more firmly. I don't want him to pry. It hurts enough watching the disappointed look on his face when he can't remember things about his childhood with Steve, even after being reminded more than once. I don't want to see that look in his eyes about me. It would burn my soul. I don't want everyone's pity; it makes me feel vulnerable. And when I feel vulnerable, I get anxious, and anxiety drives me insane. Finally, his footsteps recede and I'm left on my own. I wait until I calm down to come out of the bathroom. I walk slowly into the kitchen, where James looks over at me from the table where he's sitting with his chin resting atop intertwined fingers, _pity_ on his face. I close my eyes a moment as I turn to the fridge.

"Don't look at me like that," I breathe, fishing out the water filter.

"Like what, Mikelle?" he asks. I spare him a glance before pouring myself a glass of water and a cup of pulp free orange juice.

"Like someone who cares about you, and wants to know what the hell is going on?" James asks. I close my eyes a moment, facing the cupboard before pulling out a plate and grabbing a fork and knife to sit down at the table next to him. I use the spatula to serve myself some eggs and pancakes.

"Mikelle," he says again.

"Really, James…I just don't even want to think about it," I explain quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. If I look into those deep eyes, I know I'll start to cry again. He serves himself but he doesn't start eating, he's still looking at me. He _always_looks at me, but lately it's with pity and even a hint of distrust.

"You never tell me anything," he says. I put my fork down and spare him a glance. His tousled brown hair dips into one of his eyes, perfectly framing his face.

"That's not true."

"You always dance around the truth when I ask. It's like…" he trails off, tipping the syrup over his pancakes, "you don't trust me. I wouldn't turn on you. I just thought you would believe that by now."

"It's _not_—it's _nothing_, James."

"It's not _nothing_, Kelly. That's the first time I've seen you cry since…"

And we both stop what we're doing to stare deeply into each other. My palm resting on the table grows sweaty as that night at the motel crosses both our minds. I don't have to be able to read James's to know he's thinking about it, too. He sighs and slices into a pancake. Tears leak out of my eyes again and I reach for a napkin from the centre of the table.

"It has nothing to do with me not trusting you—I trust you," I explain. When he looks at me again, all of the sadness is mirrored back at me. I feel his hand on my knee under the table.

"We should cancel the party tonight and just talk—"

"No," I interrupt. Agent Hill is coming to visit, along with a few other friends of mine and Steve's; James and I never formally had the proper housewarming party.

"And you can tell me everything," he says gently, hopefully. I shake my head and cover my eyes.

"Okay, we need to really talk. Something has been bothering you, and if it's definitely not me, I want to know what it is," he states.

"You promised you wouldn't go anywhere this morning, and you broke that promise. You said you'd make it up to me. So make it up. Tell me what's going on."

He grips my hand tighter.

"Okay," I breathe, "but not now. We still have to clean up before anyone sets foot here. I want it to look nice."

"Kelly, promise me you'll tell me everything," James says, holding my face in both hands. I nod. He stands up to kiss me, and when that chilly metal arm wraps around me, I shiver.


	5. Chapter 5

He'd thought about cutting his hair, but he liked the way Mikelle's fingers ran through it. Each time they kissed, every time she embraced him, he felt a little bit less like a monster, less like a killer. She made him feel wanted, not that Steve didn't offer that, but he couldn't offer it in the same way. Mikelle had become the soldier's rock. If there was anyone, aside from Steve Rogers, that he _knew _he could count on, it was Mikelle Gwynevere Hass.

"Why'd you choose Barnes as your last name after you faked your death?" he asks after she finally cuts off the vacuum cleaner, having been distracted from wiping the windows to stare at her cleaning. Mikelle laughs and unplugs the machine, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. She wraps up the wire, turning to smile at him.

"I don't know," she admits. He places the rag and cleaning solution on top of the dresser before approaching her with interest. It was something the soldier had been curious to know from the moment she became his mission.

"I just…picked an A-name and picked a B-name. Barely thought about it."

"Before I saw you for the first time, they told me your alias, and for a second I thought…I thought I had a sister, before I realized she'd probably have to be dead by now, or so old that it wouldn't have taken a Hydra agent to get rid of her," James explains. _Get rid of her_, James's words echo in Mikelle's thoughts. She swallows with some difficulty, but as he smiles and grips her waist, placing his forehead against hers, she remembers he could never do anything to hurt her.

"I think we're done cleaning," he says quietly, moving to her neck with stealth to breathe against it and plant sultry kisses. Mikelle laughs, leaning in on him. He knows that he makes her weak in the knees, wet. Something as simple as a kiss could incapacitate her. She laughs and pushes back on him, so he clings tighter, passing his bionic hand down her rear and squeezing.

"We don't have time for this, James," she breathes. The guests will arrive in forty minutes or less. The soldier hadn't bothered to put on more than his boxers to help Mikelle clean up their apartment, and he knows that as he pulls her nearer his waist, she can feel his excitement.

"Bucky," she breathes as he lingers at her throat, and his heart skips a beat. She rarely calls him that; it's for Steve, she'd said. But she'd called him Bucky the night before, as his hips rolled relentlessly between her thighs, brought her to climax. It sounded so sweet when she said it. He wanted to hear it again. The phone rings and Mikelle starts.

"James, we both need to get ready," she finishes, leaning away from him. He sighs, discontent, but aware that he hasn't showered yet either. He grips her delicate chin in his cold hand.

"But later?"

She nods and he kisses her well before they hurry to prepare for the first real evening with friends they'll ever have at their flat.

On the balcony, Mikelle is sure to be out of sight and earshot of James as Fury hands her a small bottle of some reddish tinted fluid, along with a syringe. She pockets the items in the spring jacket she'd donned before stepping out with him, to show him the hydrangeas, she'd lied.

"Banner sent it to me a couple of hours ago," the director explains, "Didn't know he'd have something ready so soon…be careful with it. _Not more than two cc's a day_," he stresses. Mikelle nods. Fury glances back into the apartment, warily. Mikelle can hear James laughing at one of Steve's jokes. The white curtains sway out of the bedroom like ghosts against the open double doors.

"Have you still not told James?" Fury asks, gazing up at the stars.

"I want it to stay that way. He doesn't need to know. He's been having flashbacks…about Hydra. I can't stand the way they leave him. He looks…scared, Nick. He gets panic attacks over them. I know I'm the only thing holding him together. I can't chance having him know how vulnerable I really am," I explain.

"You're not vulnerable, Hass. I've read your file. You're _capable_. Just…a little untrained in some areas. But this should fix that," he reassures Mikelle, tapping her pocket where she'd stuffed the syringe and phial.

"No more than two cc's _once_ a day," he stresses again. Mikelle grins a bit apprehensively, nodding.

"The side effects shouldn't—"

Fury stops midsentence as James appears shortly, stepping out onto the balcony with a glass of wine in his hand.

"There you are," he says, giving Mikelle a once over glance before facing Fury.

"How do you like the hydrangeas?"James asks, lifting his glass as if to toast before taking a sip. Nerves begin to get to Mikelle, and she turns away to chill her demeanor before smiling at James.

"They could use some water," Fury states, picking up a bit of soil from one of the pots. James laughs.

"Forgive me for interrupting. I had to get away from Mr. Stark for a minute. He won't stop tinkering with my arm," James admits. Mikelle glances at it, uncovered from the long sleeve on the opposite limb that has the cuff buttoned at the wrist. He'd been having to tailor his clothes specifically for the bionic limb. It had a tendency to rip the sleeves of James's shirts. She laughs.

"I thought they'd _never _leave," James grins, closing and locking the front door. Mikelle sits upon the kitchen counter as he turns around to approach her, that look in his eyes that he gets before attacking. Mikelle's heart beats frantically as she grips the marble counter under her fingers. The Winter Soldier plants himself between Mikelle's knees and runs his hands up her back, massaging into the skin at the backless part of her dress. She's a bit taller than him where she's sitting on the counter. He leans his face into her chest and kisses it. Mikelle runs her fingers through the soldier's soft hair.

"Let's make each other feel good," he whispers, shoving his hands beneath the dress and pulling it. She grips around his shoulders and sits up off her butt a second so that he can swipe the dress over her hips and pull her panties down. Mikelle struggles to pull the dress off over her head as the soldier unbuttons his shirt frantically. He pulls it off and unbuckles his belt, tugging it through the loops of his jeans and stepping out of them before reaching around Mikelle's back to unhook her bra, kissing her neck simultaneously. He then picks the woman up off the counter, throwing her over his shoulder, and she gasps as the cold metallic arm encircles her waist. Mikelle laughs and reaches down to slap his ass and tug at his boxers as he hauls her off to their bed. He drops her there and she laughs pressing a bare foot upon his abdomen. He pushes it out of the way before mounting her, and they become a mess of breathing and moaning kisses on the bed. Mikelle slowly moves her way back to the headboard. James reaches between her legs with those cold metal fingers and she gasps into his mouth as he teases her heated bud. She grips his wrist, and merely squeezes. He kisses her kneecap as she slowly lies back. His lips travel laboriously down her inner thigh until he meets the divinity between her legs and kisses it with a moan. Her legs clench against the sides of his head and her back arches. The soldier pries her legs apart gently, holding them still in opposite directions, continuing to inhale her and kiss where she already glistens with arousal. She moans his name, pushing her hands through his hair, destroying the neat manner in which he'd combed it over and gelled it back. He pulls her legs over his shoulders, moaning. Her heels rest against his powerful back and he begins to feast upon her with greed and anticipation, feeling his length grow with need as it brushes the satin quilt. She's tight around his tongue as he tastes her, and lets out an almost painful moan, one that almost deters the soldier from continuing, until she clasps the back of his head and holds him in place between her legs. He laps at her deeply, she tugs his hair. Mikelle grips the quilt, her body beginning to undulate pleasurably in response. James curls his metallic fingers into her grip and she leans upon her elbow to gaze down at him, sweat forming upon her brow when his eyes spare her a look. He gets her close, reveling in the way she repetitively grabs at his hair, her hand squeezing his metallic grip tightly. She could try to crush this hand and it would never hurt him a bit. He liked being able to feel the intensity of her pleasure this way. Mikelle throws her head back, cursing and muttering his name, tells him she's close as he digs into her core with his tongue. She feels wet and fleshy on the inside, her muscles tight and nearly resistant to him. When he can't take it anymore, he stops and sits up on his knees, grabbing Mikelle by both wrists and pulling her up. She turns, gets on her knees, and he grabs her by the waist, pulling her body towards him so that her legs splay either side of him. He pushes his cock inside her dripping maw. She moans and grabs at the quilt, peeling it back, her rear in perfect place for the soldier to grab as he pleased. He leans forward to plant a kiss in the middle of Mikelle's back.

"I wanted to be inside of you the moment I watched you sleeping. You were naked. It was hot that night," he explains, leaning down and restraining her hands against the bed.

"I remember feeling like I couldn't control myself," he whispers, nipping her ear before giving a sharp thrust. Mikelle gasps and starts, but The Winter Soldier pins her body down so that she can't move.

"I had to keep you asleep," he breathes, kissing at her neck, and he can tell without seeing her expression that Mikelle's eyes are rolling shut.

"I was careful the first time. I injected you under your toenail," he explains. There _had_ been some nights where Mikelle had miraculously slept deeper than others. She hadn't been able to figure out why. This arouses her more than it frightens her as the soldier sits back up to give another powerful thrust, forcing Mikelle to open on him in a way that _almost _pains the woman. He releases her right wrist, the one he'd been holding with his human limb, and reaches beneath Mikelle to fondle her clit as he begins to thrust at a gentler pace, meaning to work her into an excruciatingly slow, earth shattering climax. She moans, reaching for his hand, but he doesn't stop; he grazes her clit harder, and she grips at the sheets helplessly, moaning his name in pleasurable agony.

"After I set up those cameras in your apartment, I went back to mine and jacked off," he admits, lowering himself to speak directly into Mikelle's ear. She moans as he brings her into a position where she's on her hands and knees. He pauses to kiss the back of her head and neck sweetly, keeping her wrists pinned down by the force of his big hands.

"I could have waited—waited until you left for work…I wanted to see you," he breathes. He starts fucking her hard, keeping her locked in place. Mikelle damn near screams, and James wraps his metal hand around her middle, biting gently into her shoulder as he thrusts. The hand travels between her legs again and teases. Mikelle's breath catches and she rests tiredly upon her forearms again, her ass slapping against the soldier's body repetitively.

"I wanted to _fuck_ you," he breathes, speeding up even more. Mikelle's body strains and he feels her wet all over his thighs. Her body convulses with the orgasm that causes her to squirt. He doesn't stop manhandling her clit. He comes, wrapping both arms tightly around Mikelle's body, restraining her arms. Her moans are deliciously painful to his ears as she shakes uncontrollably. His metal hand cups her throat tenderly and she grips the arm passionately, moaning his name. The soldier had come to learn that Mikelle liked to be handled roughly, and he couldn't have hurt her if he'd tried. He didn't want to hurt her anyway, so much as to make her squirm. Having accomplished this task, he allows her to sit against his lap. Mikelle turns her head enough so that he can kiss her, folding his arms protectively around her. She marvels at his strength, sighing and shuddering in awe of the incapacitating climax, catching her breath. As he lies gently down to hold her, Mikelle realizes that this is the first time The Winter Soldier has told her this with such graphic detail. He could have raped her while she slept, and she knew that he had wanted to. But something stopped him. A flicker of humanity, maybe? Something still left deep within the soldier who'd become a weapon, controlled and confused, an assassin. When she turns to face him as he pulls the quilt up around their bodies, the look on his face is apprehensive, as if he's afraid she won't trust him anymore after what he's just said. James relaxes when he finds only love and lustful satisfaction emanating from Mikelle's eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, her head resting in the bend of his bionic arm. He can feel her breathing against it, the gentlest sensation. Mikelle grins shyly.

"Not in a bad way," she admits before kissing his beautifully cleaved chin. The slight stubble scratches her lips, and she rubs her forehead against it.

"Did it scare you…what I said?" he whispers, running the fingers of his human hand along her hip beneath the quilt. Mikelle shivers. She looks up into his eyes and the silence kills him a moment too long before she speaks again.

"If you had asked me then, before I fell in love with you, it would have scared me. It would have angered me, but no. I'm not afraid of you," she explains.

"You should be," he grins, rolling on top of her to stare down at her beautiful face. She laughs languidly, her stomach expanding against his in the deep breath that she takes.

"I would kill for you, you know that," he says. She doesn't flinch or shy away at his words, but nods knowingly. She kisses his forehead, between his eyes, the tip of his nose, his lips.

"Was I really naked?" she asks. The Winter Soldier grins down at Mikelle.

"You were."

Blood rushes to her cheeks as she recalls the night. There had been a heating problem going on in the apartment complex. She'd slept with her bedroom window open and without clothes or blankets. She hated to sleep in the heat, but heat made her sleepy. It was one of those odd things.

"Was that the first time you ever saw me?" she asks out of sheer curiosity, tracing the side of Bucky's cheek, dipping her finger into his cleft. He dips his head, keeping eye contact as he takes her finger into his mouth, sucking it gently. Mikelle grins.

"In person, yes," he admits, leaning down to kiss her. They're both silent for a moment, lips exploring and tasting one another, exchanging breath and sweet words. He hardens again, and slips right into the unsuspecting woman once more. She gasps and grips his shoulders as he groans.

"Mikelle," he breathes. His muscular frame pinning Mikelle knocks the breath out of her stomach as she clings with both legs to Bucky's sides, moaning. She'd had enough, but longed to please him until he tired himself out. He looks down at her.

"Tell me why you were crying when you came home," he demands, pausing to rest upon both arms patiently. Mikelle looks away, having forgotten what she'd promised him. Bucky sways his hips gently, bringing her attention back to him. She closes her eyes tightly a moment and presses her hands to his pecks.

"Nothing," she exhales, digging her nails into him. He sighs and stops.

"You promised you'd tell me."

Mikelle pushes on his arm and he lets her sit up. She stares out the window at the stars distantly. She doesn't say a word until Bucky pulls her into his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder. She takes a deep breath as he grips her hand.

"Hey, I'm here, Mikelle. Nothing you can say would scare me away."

"I'm not worried about scaring you away," she admits.

"But something's scaring you…or worrying you," he presses, pulling her hair over her shoulder.

"Just something…a file Fury found about me…my whole life has been a…a lie…an experiment," she says, feeling her eyes slowly well up with tears.

"I was never even actually born. Not like you. I came from a test tube. How am I supposed to live like this? I don't even really know where I came from. I just feel…empty. Like something was taken away from me—a real family, a real childhood, a _real _life," she explains, her voice finally cracking. Bucky holds her tighter and she begins to weep audibly. His strong arms holding her feel like they're really holding her together.

"To the best of my knowledge, I was never truly loved. I was never really wanted, like a child should be. I was just a test."

He turns her to meet his gaze.

"You're more than that to me," he admits, "Don't think I don't know what it's like to feel that way. I was under someone else's control, at the mercy of other people, just to do their dirty work. They wiped my mind. Made me forget who I was. I know what you're going through." She buries her face in his chest.

"It's okay to wonder who you were, who you're supposed to be, Mikelle. I know this because I have Steve, and I have you…and you have me."

She doesn't reveal to James any more than this. She doesn't want to see the pity in his eyes, so she closes her own for a long moment.

"They can't take _everything _from you, Kelly…Steve and I are best friends again. I can still feel. I'm human. I can still love."

She grins as his bionic fingers intertwine hers. He turns Mikelle's wrist to kiss it and she tucks his hair behind his ear. She trails her hand down his human arm, always feeling safest like this, in the shelter of his warm body.


	6. Chapter 6

"Come on," James whispers, leading Mikelle to lie down once more.

"Just hold me, please," she responds.

"I won't let go," he promises, crawling right up behind her so that their bodies are spooning in perfect contact. She revels in the movement of his chest as he breathes. Mikelle brings his fleshy hand to her lips and kisses it. He slides the metallic arm under her so that both his arms encircle her. The soldier presses his lips to her temple for a long moment.

"I love you, James," she admits. She wasn't the first to say this, although he'd known from the way she responded when she spoke to him, the way she reacted when he touched her, that she loved him.

"Please don't ever leave me. You're the only thing keeping me sane," she admits.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says comfortingly, and with a hint of surprise; he can't believe she thinks he would desert her. She can feel his eyes on her, perhaps worriedly.

"How did it feel when you woke up with this?" she asks, pressing her lips against his bionic arm. He sighs and rests his chin atop her head, pondering.

"First, I thought I was dead. The last thing I remembered was falling. Steve…and then I was in excruciating pain, like a thousand bees were stinging my head, like someone had torn my arm off…they were doing all these things to me. I don't remember much. It's like…a series of dreams," he explains.

"I remember killing. I remember pain. They tortured me. I've never felt so much pain."

Her eyes leak honest tears as she listens to him speak.

"I'm just glad he found me, Steve. I'm glad he made me remember. Escaping with you was the best thing I've ever done. I feel like…we were supposed to find each other."

She smiles, turning in his arms. She kisses his chest and slides her arm around him. The two fall asleep, naked limbs entwined.

Bucky's muttering wakes Mikelle. The sun is barely up, but she can see him in the dimness, a pained expression on his face. He's sweating, fists clenched tightly. She can't understand what he's saying, he's not speaking English. He groans, shouting as if he's in pain and it starts to scare her. She straddles him, shaking his shoulders to try and wake him.

"James…_James?!_"

And as if by some sort of lack of control, his eyes open and she finds her gaze fixed at the ceiling as both of the soldier's hands encircle her throat. He's not playing; he's trying to strangle her.

"Bucky!" Mikelle screams, seeing white fuzz around her field of vision, pulling unsuccessfully to break his wrists free. His teeth grit as he bears down upon her throat. She can't scream his name again, she's losing consciousness. Mikelle reaches for the glass of water on the nightstand that she'd left there some hours ago. She musters every ounce of strength and splashes it in the soldier's face. The glass drops on the floor, shattering. He finally blinks and stares down, and Mikelle is inches away from blacking out as he finally comes to and snaps out of his dreams. Suddenly he lets go. Mikelle coughs and chokes, grabbing at her throat, gasping for air. He'd had nervous breakdowns before, mumbled in his sleep, but this is the first time he's ever tried to strangle her.

"Mikelle," he gasps, bringing her into an upright position. She scrambles across the bed away from him, falling right off and landing harshly on the hardwood floor. James stares at his hands, in disbelief and disgust at what he'd just done.

"Kelly?" he breathes, catching his breath, stepping out of the bed to approach her. Mikelle backs up until she's in the bathroom. She locks the door, despite realizing how much of an accident it had been. She reasons that she shouldn't have reminded him about all the torture, the pain, as she flicks on the light to stare at the bruise forming around her windpipe. If she had not been able to reach for that glass, James would not have woken up, and she would not have been standing there, staring at her terrified face in the bathroom mirror. Mikelle nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears Bucky knock.

"Baby—are you alright? I'm sorry," he cries on the other side, and she can already picture the broken way his face is twisted, devastated that he'd nearly _killed_ her. He had to get control over these meltdowns. This one nearly cost Mikelle her life. He would not have been able to forgive himself if…she coughs a while, splashing cold water on her face.

"Kelly," he sobs, knocking again.

"I'm alright," she calls from the other side, her voice weak and choked.

"Let me in. I'm sorry. It was an accident," he explains. He knows Mikelle knows this, but the fact that she doesn't unlock the door causes Bucky to understand how much he really scared her. Mikelle's hands shake. She sits on the tub ledge. She's been doing this a lot lately, locking Bucky out, away from her, both figuratively and literally. But this is the first time she's doing it because she's actually _afraid _of him.

"Please, god, let me in," he begs.

"I'm _awake_ now, Kelly. I'm awake. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She knows this is no ruse; she can tell by the way he's crying. The knob turns, until he just breaks it. She sits up straight as he opens the door, staring in at her with wide, remorseful eyes.

"Just give me a moment," she responds calmly, though she feels far from it. Bucky looks her over repetitively to see that she's actually intact, before staring down at his hands like they're strangers.

"God, I didn't mean that," he says, his lip trembling. She watches another tear roll down his cheek.

"I know," she breathes, massaging her throat. She ponders and realizes that even if she'd managed to get out of his grip without waking him and run into the bathroom, this wouldn't have stopped him from opening the door to finish her off. The thought causes her to freeze with fear.

"You were dreaming. It was another flashback. It was an accident," she explains.

"Kelly, I'm—"

"I know," she says, her voice breaking nonetheless as she stands up and takes a precautionary step back. His shoulders drop and she sees the hurt in his body language without it being obvious on his face.

"I'll sleep on the couch. You can have the bed," he says, walking out of the bathroom and out of the bedroom. She stands there until she can't hear him anymore before walking towards the door. The lock is now broken, and changes nothing about the accessibility of the bathroom when she tries to lock herself out.

She doesn't fall asleep again as she lies in bed. Bucky is no longer beside her, but a small puddle had been left from his sweat. She stares over at the spot where he usually sleeps, wondering if she would even still be alive if that glass of water hadn't been there. She didn't like it when she actually feared the soldier. She hadn't feared him in this way since he stole her away to Nevada. Steve had convinced him to see a therapist regularly, and it seemed to be working pretty well; he'd had fewer breakdowns, but the memories from his life before Hydra were harder to regain. Mikelle is almost certain that this recent outburst is the result of him talking all about Hydra right before they'd gone to sleep. She shouldn't have said anything. He's probably as upset as she is, and as she turns on her side, the ache in her throat is unavoidable. She winces before sitting up, staring at the shattered glass on the floor. She slips into a pair of flip flops and walks out of the room to go to the kitchen for a broom and dustpan. As she passes the den, she finds Bucky sitting awake on the couch, hugging a cushion. She can tell he hadn't fallen asleep again, either. He simply stares into space, even as she passes, a regretful expression on his face. She sighs and flicks on the light switch in the kitchen, pausing to grab herself a glass of water. She stands there and stares out the window at the rising sun. She hears it when Bucky walks into the kitchen and pauses in the doorway. She turns around slowly. His eyes are streaming incessantly as he finally makes his way towards her.

"It's okay," she whispers as he kneels and wraps his arms around her waist, crying audibly.

"Shhh. Shhh," she soothes, pushing her hands repetitively through his matted hair. She kneels with him, wrapping her arms around him and letting him weep into her neck. She knew it had been an accident.

Out of sight, Bucky joins Steve for a run while Mikelle finally decides to start the first dose of the new serum Banner had made. Mikelle sits on the couch in front of the muted T.V. for a straight five minutes, staring at the phial and the syringe on the glass coffee table, trying to decide whether it's really worth it to do this. She thinks about Hydra, the fact that they might find James again. She couldn't risk being passive if that were to happen. Invisibility was a great ability, but not as defensive as telekinesis. She finally takes a deep breath and jabs the syringe into the phial, extracting exactly two cc's, per Fury's instructions. She pauses, wondering if this could kill her. She thinks of James, tears rolling down her cheeks as she breaks her skin with the needle and expels the first dose into her veins. If something like last night's breakdown were to happen again—even if an accident—she wanted to be able to get him off of her. She knew that no matter _how much_ Bucky hadn't meant to hurt her, it could happen again, and could be fatal. Mikelle wipes her eyes and waits, wondering if she'll feel any different. Five minutes pass, then ten, then fifteen, and she doesn't feel a thing. She gets up and goes to secure the serum and needle away where she'd been hiding it under a floorboard in the kitchen. She wonders for a moment how James would react if he knew what she was doing. The first serum Banner had offered had made her sick. James took care of her, so unwittingly oblivious to the fact that her "head cold" was the result of her own personal self-experiment. She wonders if it would make him angry, how he would feel if she died on him…but he has Steve still. He knows Bucky better than she does. He would have gotten James through it, if she died. She pats the floorboard back in place and shakes her head of these dark thoughts. She starts to make lunch, putting water on the stove to boil. As she walks into the den to watch T.V., Mikelle collapses.

James doesn't know how to tell Steve what had happened after everyone had left the flat the previous night. He wants to figure out how to stop, before he makes another mistake involving Mikelle. The worry finally overcomes him and he stops running after the tenth mile he covers with Steve. Rogers continues about ten feet before realizing that Bucky is no longer at his side. He runs back to catch up with him, finding the man with his head in his hand, looking rather distraught. Bucky comes out with it.

"I tried to strangle Mikelle in my sleep last night. It was another flashback. I didn't realize it was her. She threw a cup of water in my face. I don't know if I would have been able to stop if she hadn't."

Steve's expression is sympathetic and grave, concerned in a way that only makes Bucky even more anxious.

"I could have killed her, Steve. I can't stop the flashbacks. Do you ever get those?"

"Sometimes."

"How do you make them _stop_? I want to stop. I can't even lie next to her anymore, knowing I could—"

Bucky cuts himself short, covering his mouth a moment before brushing his sweaty hair back.

"Listen, Buck, I've been doing the best I can. And so has Nick. We keep up the therapy. It's the only way to fight the shock…maybe you want to take something for the flashbacks. There could be something that'll help stop them, if they're manifesting like that. You're not a bad man, Bucky…It was an accident."

"That's what Mikelle told me. I know that. I just _don't trust myself_ anymore. Not with my head fucked up like this. Sometimes it's like…like I'm not me, still. And this," he says, extending the metallic limb attached to his body, "This makes me dangerous."

"Bucky," says Steve, grabbing his shoulder securely, "We'll get you the help you need. I promise."

Steve always seems to know the right things to say to calm Bucky down. He smiles weakly and they walk for a while before running back the way they came. When Bucky opens the door and enters the kitchen, the first thing he notices is the water boiling over on the stove. He rushes over to turn it off, calling Mikelle's name. He kicks his shoes off and pries open a water bottle to drink half of it before calling Mikelle again. Her car was outside. She had to be home. He gets up and starts into the den. The sight of Mikelle convulsing on the floor sends a terrifying shock through Bucky's heart. He screams her name and rushes over to hold her up. The sound of Bucky's voice panicking meets Mikelle's ears. She finally stops seizing to find him with wide eyes, holding her head in his lap. Her vision is double as she slowly opens her eyes.

"Open your eyes, baby…_please_, look at me," Bucky cries.

"Open your eyes, Kelly…_Kelly?_"

She blinks, her mouth opening, unable to find words.

"Thank god," he breathes shakily, one of his hot tears dripping on her forehead. The sensation is like fire to her, and she groans.

"Don't get up—let me call an ambulance," he starts, placing her head down gently before rushing up.

"_No_!" she shouts, and as she reaches out her hand, desperately wanting to stop him, the soldier's body pulls back abruptly in mid air and slams up against the wall, keeping him in a tight chokehold, his palms pressed in place, even his face turned to the side against the wall. Mikelle can feel the straining sensation in her brain, as if she's lifting something without actually touching it, like she'd felt when she was able to actually use the power without hurting herself. James's head slowly turns in her direction, his eyes wide and fearful.

"Kelly," he breathes, staring down at his body plastered to the wall. He tries to move his metal arm, and only manages to lift the fingers off the wall for a second, struggling against the force of Mikelle's strength. The wall behind him begins to crack and she gasps, sputtering and coughing, and The Winter Soldier falls off the wall and to his knees with a _thump_. Mikelle sits up straight, her heart beating frantically as if she'd just run at full speed. She tries to catch her breath. James stands slowly and stares over at her in disbelief.

"Did you do that?" he asks. Quickly, she moves her fingers to her nose, and finds that it's not bleeding, nor is her head aching. Banner's serum worked. She tries to stand up and falls right back down, suddenly unable to move at all. James rushes over to her and scoops her up off the floor. She looks at him, unable to even move her lips.

"Mikelle?" he places her on the couch and kneels there, gripping her hand, looking as if he might cry. A few more seconds pass before she is able to move again. She reaches slowly for James's face.

"I did it," she says.

"You were having a seizure. Do you remember what happened?" James asks, speaking slowly and clearly.

"Do you remember what happened after I left this morning?" he asks again. Mikelle sits up slowly.

"I'm fine," she says, "No ambulances. Please."

"Kelly, you were having a _seizure_!"

"I said, _'No ambulances_,'" she retorts, sighing and pushing her hands through her hair.

"This is my fault," James breathes, turning to stare at the slightly cracked wall, where he'd been pressed a few feet off the ground moments prior. Mikelle grips his face in both hands and forces him to look at her. She leans down, bearing into his eyes.

"It was not, James. Do you hear me? You did nothing wrong. I'm fine," she explains, tracing his perfect lips and wiping his tears away.

"I need help, Kelly. If I hurt you like that again, I—"

"Shhh, you didn't do this," she reassures him, "Even that was an accident. We'll figure it out. Don't worry." She kisses his forehead lingeringly and wraps her arms around his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he chokes again. She rubs his back soothingly, not caring how sweaty he is. His face is pressed against her abdomen as she scoots closer to him off the couch.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you, baby," she reassures him.

"Mikelle, I almost _killed you_," he states gravely, looking up at her.

"We'll get help," she says earnestly, "It'll all be okay. We've gotten this far. We've been through much worse, haven't we, Bucky?"

His heart skips a beat when she calls him that. As she kisses his cheeks, his closed eyes, scratches his shoulders comfortingly, he starts to relax. She can't stop kissing him, despite the way he smells sweaty from running everywhere. It's a fairly warm day as it is, but that only encourages Mikelle to take off her own shirt. She hadn't been wearing a bra. As Bucky's eyes feast on the view, he can't help but begin to feel tingly in his lower abdomen, that familiar sensation returning. She excites him without even touching him. He plants his lips on her chest, leaning over her onto the couch. Already, she knows they're going to make love. She tugs on the back of Bucky's shirt until he pulls it off hastily, wrenching it over his muscular back and throwing it aside.

"I'm sorry," he breathes again, unable to stop apologizing for the previous night. Mikelle tugs at her shorts and he helps her out of them, taking her underwear with them she moans into the top of his head as he hastens to remove his shorts, before picking the woman up. She wraps her legs around his waist, the both of them now naked.

"Fuck me," she breathes, digging her nails down Bucky's back. He moans pleasurably, carrying her into the bathroom, resting her on the counter top, leaning Mikelle against the mirror behind them as he litters her neck in kisses. She digs her teeth into his shoulder, a salty taste meeting her tongue as she glides it over his skin. She reaches down his statuesque torso before clawing his perfect behind. She reaches between their bodies, ready for him, gripping his hardened girth between her fingers. He grabs her right ankle in a powerful hold, massaging her breast with his other hand as she guides him within the folds of her cunt, and he swiftly bucks his hips inward to stretch her and fill her to the hilt. Mikelle gasps, breaking free of Bucky's lips to moan and gasp, her eyes squeezing tight in the manner that always turns him on further as she acclimates. She wraps her arm around his neck for a moment, and he marvels at her face contorting in a sensual mix of pain and amazement.

"Oh, James," she breathes, her eyebrows clenching as she groans and shifts her head skywards. He envelopes her chin between his lips and sucks gently, pulling her hips closer to the edge. She gasps and grabs the counter top, steadying herself. He slithers his tongue hotly into her mouth, gripping Mikelle under the knees and holding her steady before pulling out a few inches and shoving himself back in. She strains around him, trembling noticeably, as if she's shivering from his touch. She reaches forward with her right hand to feather her fingers down his chest, grip the fore of his bionic arm. She doesn't mind the sweat as he cocoons her in both arms, her legs still floating on either side of them by the back of her knees. He pauses, his gaze finding her soul as he presses his forehead up against hers. Bucky kisses her hungrily, messily.

"Open your mouth," he demands, and her puckered lips separate and he licks her tongue, suffocating her by clamping his mouth down over her own. Her moaning into his mouth makes him harder and he breaks the kiss to grip a tuft of her hair and keep her gaze locked on his as he takes her roughly, the way she likes it, restricting her movements with a tight hold. This position causes his pelvis to strike her clit, and he knows she'll soon be wet all over him. She drags a pair of nails down his spine again as he rearranges her legs, lets her pull them around him. He leans his head against her hand where it's rubbing the side of his face. He thrusts between her legs as if they'll never have the chance to fuck again, and he feels her insides drawing him in like her cunt is trying to hold onto him for dear life. The heat emanating from the fat of her thighs causes sweat to form on Bucky's hips, and his entire body sweats afresh. Mikelle's hands grow slippery on his shoulders. She buries her face into his right shoulder, her moans growing louder, more agonized and drawn out; she's going to come soon. Her body goes stiff and stills before she shudders, gripping him the tightest on the inside, forcing him to spill every drop of his seed inside her heated depth. She lets her head rest back against the mirror, her stomach expanding and compressing as she pants, gripping Bucky's face, staring into his big, ocean-blue, puppy dog eyes. He grunts a final time, his chest heaving in the aftermath. He pulls her tightly and suddenly to his chest, lifting her up off the sink and holding her so that her feet don't meet the floor.

"Don't scare me like that again, Mikelle," he orders. She kisses his neck appreciatively, their sweat intermingling, their bodies secure against one other, as if they've grown into one erotic entity. When finally Bucky puts the woman down, she kisses his chest another time, before informing him how much he stinks, and he laughs. She starts the water in the tub and they sit together for a bath.

Mikelle runs her hand over Bucky's knee cap beneath the water where she sits between his legs. He keeps his arms wrapped around her middle.

"But really, Kelly, I think you should see a doctor."

"So should you," she responds. He's silent.

"I didn't mean it like that—"

"I know," he says, kissing her shoulder. He leans back, taking her with him.

"We're both nervous wrecks," he says. Mikelle reaches up to place her hand on his wet head comfortingly. She drags his human hand between her legs and he cups her mound, laughing. She moans, unable to get enough of him. She really just wants to distract him from any more talk about the seizure she'd just had and why it happened in the first place. The serum had worked. She figured the side effects couldn't get any worse, but even as Bucky begins to rub her passionately, kissing her cheek as she leans back against his wet chest, she can't help fearing she'll destroy herself eventually.


	7. Chapter 7

After a quiet dinner and an evening spent watching some old, black and white film in French (James preferred them because they felt more like what he could remember about television and movies), Mikelle yawns and makes her way to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. After she showers, James is still sitting on the couch in the den.

"Come to bed, soldier," Mikelle coaxes. He smiles shortly and simply spares her a glance. Mikelle approaches and pulls at Bucky's arm. He grabs her by the waist and easily pulls her into his lap.

"I'm not sleeping in bed tonight," he explains, and his emotionless voice unnerves Mikelle.

"…Bucky, it was an accident. It probably won't happen again. I shouldn't have reminded you about all of that…" she trails off, but feels more confident in being able to use the telekinesis to throw him up against the wall again, if necessary. Bucky shakes his head.

"You don't know that."

"Come on," she begs, kissing up his face. He likes it when she does this, closing his eyes to get lost in the feel of her lips on his stubble.

"I'll even keep a glass of water on the nightstand. I'll wake you up as soon as you start talking in your sleep."

He sighs, opening his eyes to gaze at her.

"I can't," he says, shaking his head and looking away.

"Steve said there was probably something I could take for this. I don't want it to happen again. The flashbacks are too strong…they take me over, Kelly. I can't control myself. We're not sleeping in the same bed until I have it under control."

"I can protect myself," she responds sweetly, pushing his hair back and assaulting his forehead with kisses. He pulls her back to look him in the face.

"Even against me?"

"You saw what I did earlier, didn't you?" she asks, cocking a brow, her voice dropping darkly.

"And how _did_ you do that? The last time you threw me like that, it was much weaker, and you nearly bled to death through your nose."

Mikelle sighs and looks away. Bucky suddenly can't shake the feeling that she's hiding something from him.

"Why does it matter how I did it? Maybe…maybe I'm just getting better at it," she explains, tracing his lips. He rests his forehead against her arm a moment.

"Go to bed, Mikelle," he says.

"But I can't sleep without you," she says, and he knows it's the truth. His heartbeat quickens.

"I need those arms around me," she continues, grasping his biceps. Bucky smiles as she clasps his chin and kisses his face again.

"You'll be fine," he promises, gently pushing her off his lap. She frowns at him before standing up, realizing she won't convince him to move. She steals a moment on the balcony, picking the journal she'd started keeping on the serum from inside the compartment she'd hid it in, inside a flower pot. She jots down the side effects she's been having. So far, they've only been seizures and a low body temperature, but would subside a couple of hours after injection. Mikelle thinks she's getting stronger, but she wonders whether the effects will wear off once she finishes the phial. She also wonders, and writes down, whether drug interactions are something she should worry about; she hasn't stopped taking her birth control upon starting the serum. She sighs, stuffing the journal and pen away again. She glances back into the bedroom, where the lamp light shines on the bed. She wishes that Bucky was sleeping there. Mikelle stargazes for another moment. When she turns around again, the sight of Bucky standing in the doorway causes her to gasp.

"James," she sighs, "You…scared the _shit_ out of me," she grins, suddenly praying with a pang that he hadn't seen what she was doing. She knew deep down that she could only keep secrets from him for so long; it wasn't like the soldier wasn't also a trained spy. He grins.

"I thought you were going to bed," he says, stepping further out the door and glancing to the left and to the right. She can see how suspicious he's getting. She plays it cool.

"I told you," she says, approaching to tug at the collar of his t-shirt, "I can't sleep without you," she says sensually. Bucky grins and pulls his cold metal arm around her. He kisses her for a long moment, and she glances out of the corner of her eye to make sure the flower pot isn't out of place. Bucky sighs, holding onto her wrists as he secures his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. She stares up at him, and knows that _he knows_ she's hiding something.

"Goodnight, Mikelle," he says before walking into the bathroom where the shower starts. She crawls into bed and closes her eyes to dream of his embrace.

Bucky's gone again when she wakes up, as she meanders half naked around their flat, calling his name. She assumes he's either gone for a run with Steve or to therapy. It's a sunny day, and Mikelle drags a fan out of the closet to position it on her while she cooks. That file Fury had given her is still hibernating under the welcome mat. She thinks about finding another hiding place for it, as that one is pretty damn obvious, but so far as she knew, Bucky hadn't found it yet. He would have mentioned it. She begins to feel that maybe she _wants_ him to find it, wants him to understand what's going on and why she's doing what she's doing. She's afraid the serum could do more damage than good, but she continues to take it every day, beginning to test the power at length. She stands in the centre of the kitchen and turns on the sink, washes a bag of grapes, stirs a pot of porridge, all without physically touching a thing. She smiles to herself, but sits down, feeling her heart race. She doesn't remember it being like this with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s testing. They'd used something else; it didn't make her feel so exhausted afterwards. She pulls herself together, aware of the familiar jangle of James's keys as he walks down the hall to open their flat door. Mikelle rushes to the sink and strains the fruit. Bucky closes and locks the door, drops his keys on the counter. She listens to him take off his shoes, approach her quietly. His body is slick with sweat as he presses up against her. She pulls her shoulders up, leaning away from him, giggling.

"You're all sweaty," she complains. This doesn't stop James from kissing and nipping at her shoulder, pulling down the strap of the tank top she'd slept in the previous night.

"Come on. You haven't even showered yet," he whispers, his voice dusting her ears so erotic that it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She pushes her behind firmly into his crotch and he groans. They fuck like rabbits almost every day. She can never get enough of him. Bucky pulls her waist, forcing Mikelle to turn around. He throws her up onto the sink ledge in one easy lift of his hands. He never even strains upon picking her up, and it still excites her how strong he is. Her hand reaches to catch on something, and with a _splash_, lands in the bowl of grapes she'd been rinsing. Bucky's hair is damp with sweat, some of it plastered to his temple. His chest is hot when she places her palm there. He smiles at her seductively. She pushes him back with all her might and he lets up, a bit of confusion on his face before she reaches up to slap him across it. He stares down at the woman, his brows clenched in confusion. She'd been so receptive a moment ago. But then she doesn't take her eyes off of Bucky as she hurries out of her shorts, throws her tank top off, and wrenches her panties to leave them on the kitchen floor. He grins slowly and she grabs his hand, pulling the bionic limb towards the bedroom. He follows obediently. Once in the room, she turns around to kick him in the chest, causing him to stumble back and fall against the wall, where he takes her with him, grasping her ankle, and she nearly loses balance. She likes to play rough.

"On the floor," she says, yanking her foot out of Bucky's grasp. He drops to his knees slowly, fighting the smirk developing on his pink lips.

"Take those shorts off," she orders in a raspy voice. He moves slowly to pull them down his legs. Her heart jumps with excitement when she finds him halfway erect, his cock creating a tent inside the white boxers. She approaches him, knocking him back as she presses her foot into his stomach. The abs are strong and stable beneath the sole of her foot, and he moans pleasantly, resting back against the wall again. She kneels in front of Bucky. He grabs her hips and she slaps him hard again.

"Fuck, Mikelle," he breathes, but she knows he enjoys this as much as she does.

"I didn't say you could touch me yet," she whispers into his ear where his head has turned from her blow. He grins and releases her waist. Bucky doesn't usually let her have this much control; he likes being in control, making her weak, dominating; she likes to be dominated just as much, but she wants to try something new. She runs both hands down his chest, which heaves pleasurably and he groans deep in his throat, facing her again with a smoldering gaze. She'd slapped him like that before he fucked her for the first time. It made him harder, and as she pulls his boxers down his legs, she sets free his pulsing erection, the fat appendage bouncing against his taut stomach. Mikelle carelessly throws the article of clothing and stands up. She uses her foot to pressure Bucky's shoulder, guiding him to lie down. He clutches her foot and she pressures into his hand, until he's lying down, prostrate on his back, surrendering. He waits to see what she'll do as she steps over him, and he gazes up between her legs desperately. Mikelle gets on the floor, straddling him. She wants to pamper his body, that glorious body, roaming her lips down his chest, his stomach. She ignores his cock and kisses down each leg, feeling him twitch under her puckered lips. Then finally, feeling her own arousal, she grips the hardened appendage and impales herself upon him, shutting her eyes in that tight, pained manner that Bucky loves, crying out as she takes him inside her. He thrusts his hips up, seeping the rest of the way in and earning a gasp out of Mikelle. She braces herself on his strong chest, gasping already. She curses, still in amazement of his girth. She was the tightest thing he'd ever been inside. Bucky can't remember how many times or whether he had even had sex in his life before Hydra, but he could masturbate with the bionic hand, grip himself in the cold fingers that gave him unique sensations in comparison to his human hand. Still, it paled in comparison to the deep, wet cavern that embraced him with rocking hips. Mikelle slowly but surely begins to grind on him. Bucky reaches up to clasp her waist. She slaps him and it stings excitingly. She pauses to grapple his wrists and restrain them against the floor, he—of course—_allowing_ her to do this. She could fight, but he knew he could easily overpower her. He plays along, moaning at the sensation of her vagina sucking him in further as she rubs her clit against him. He stares up at Mikelle's chest, her breasts swelling, the blood boiling beneath her skin. He longs to reach up and cup her breasts, her waist, anything fleshy, but he lets her take control. She starts to grind on him more vigorously, so wet that her cum begins to pool in his pubes. Bucky grins.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face," she barks. He tries harder not to smile, failing until she pauses to slap him again. He bites his bottom lip, suppressing a laugh. Mikelle begins to lose it and starts bobbing up and down on him. Bucky bites his lip again, runs his tongue over them, dying to touch her, but she keeps her hands planting his wrists down as hard as she can while still focusing on her cunt. She gets closer, and places her palms hard against his pecks, her mouth hanging open, praising God and Jesus, swearing up a storm. Bucky grins, his back arching off the floor. She finally allows him to grip her waist, and he starts to jam his hips up between her legs, their thrusts meeting, until finally Mikelle cries out so loud that Bucky knows the neighbors can hear, both up and down stairs, across the hall. He likes that he makes her this loud. The fluid that jets from between Mikelle's shaking legs is warm in a comforting way, and he watches her with profound amusement as the intensity of her orgasm racks Mikelle's entire body, her nails digging into his shoulders. He feels himself come violently, following suit and trembling beneath Mikelle's constricting maw. He would have said that the look on her face was that of pain, but as she slams her hips down on him another handful of times, he knows how good she feels inside. They calm down and Mikelle holds his head in her hands, her _I love you's _forever tumbling from between a set of shaking lips. The Winter Soldier laughs tiredly.

James starts going to therapy more than three days a week. He still won't sleep in their bed with her, and she wakes up in the middle of most nights to happen upon him speaking angrily in German in his sleep, gritting his teeth, awaking only to the sensation of Mikelle pouring cold water upon his forehead. While Bucky is out, Mikelle doses herself with the experimental serum. She quickly learns when she's in aura, and locks herself in the bedroom before collapsing to the floor and convulsing. The seizures usually take place around forty minutes after injection. She learns to wait until precisely the moment that James leaves the flat to start the treatment, keeping herself locked in the bedroom with nothing in the way that might hurt her while she seizes on the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

"Prozac," Mikelle states blankly, picking up the small bottle from the kitchen table where James had placed it. He turns his head to see what she's doing as he pours himself a glass of water. She reads the dosage and James's metallic fingers gently pull the little orange bottle away from her before she can read anything else. She turns to face him.

"I was on that, after…after a mission where I got shot. When S.H.I.E.L.D. still existed."

The Winter Soldier eyes her as he pops the pill, washing it down with cold water.

"Did it help?" he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his human hand.

Mikelle shrugs, crossing her arms and tilting her head to the side, meeting his gaze.

"I guess. I mean, if I think about it, the memory doesn't bother me anymore," she explains, and James is careful to note where her right hand wanders to grip that scar on the back of her left shoulder. He places his hand there.

"So that's what that is, a bullet scar," he says, knowing he had kissed her there many times before. She'd never said anything about it. She nods with a toothless smile. James leans against her, causing Mikelle to sit somewhat on the table top. He kisses her shoulder lingeringly. The ceiling fan blows his brown hair into her face.

"Doctor's orders," he says, pulling away. Mikelle follows him as he walks to the bathroom, tracing her fingers down the middle of his spine. He stands in front of the mirror to brush his teeth, and she wraps her arms around him from behind, pressing her face into his warm skin. She stands there, the night warm, the sound of cicadas chirping on the balcony in the plants. They'd taken to leaving the windows open, as the summer slowly progressed. Mikelle rubs her nose against Bucky's spine, lost in her own little world of sensations as she breathes in his scent, traces her hands up to his chest to feel his heart beating. He laughs gently and the sound vibrates against her. He ducks his head to rinse his mouth and Mikelle holds his hair back all the while. He turns on the mirror light to scrutinize the shadow that had appeared since he last shaved. Mikelle pushes his hair up, pausing when she notices the red star inked into his skin at the nape of his neck. Bucky catches her uneasy stare in the reflection she gives the mirror.

"What?" he asks, turning his head to the side. Mikelle runs her thumb over the tattoo.

"You have a tattoo back here, Bucky. Did you know that?" she asks, not taking her eyes off of it.

"What?" he asks with some shock turning in an attempt to look where Mikelle is staring. He can't see it in the mirror himself.

"What is it?" he asks, grabbing her wrist behind him with his cold hand.

"A red star. Like the one on your arm," she says, moving her gaze to the bionic limb. He sighs with some displeasure.

"No. I didn't know about that…they must've put it there at some point. I don't remember," he says, reaching for shaving cream and beginning to coat his five o'clock shadow. She kisses his shoulder blade one more time before undressing. He watches her in the mirror and she grins at Bucky before disappearing into the shower. When Mikelle finishes her shower and starts brushing her teeth, Bucky is already asleep on the couch in the den. He refused to sleep with her, still, not until he could see whether the medication made him stop having flashbacks. As she scrubs her molars, she stands over him, watching. He already appears to be in deep dreams. She walks into the kitchen to rinse out her mouth at the sink before walking back through the den, pausing to kiss Bucky's forehead. He stirs the slightest before she walks back into the bedroom to sleep herself. She sits on the bed, rubbing lotion into her skin, staring at the balcony's screen doors. She decides to write in the journal she'd been keeping secret, leaving the bedroom door open to make sure she can tell whether or not the Prozac has stopped Bucky from talking in his sleep. Last time it sounded like Russian, and she swore she'd heard him saying her name. She'd tried to listen, but it never made any sense before she woke him up with a splash of water. She settles down upon the quilt in the lamp light and scrawls excitedly about how well her life seems to be going, for the first time in as long as she can remember. The journal is actually a day planner, and she'd been keeping track of her doses and side effects, the seizures not having yet subsided. As she checks off a tenth successful day of taking the serum, she notices it's been more than a week since her period should have shown up. Confused for a second, she stands and walks over to her drawer. She pulls out the pill case, finding that there's nothing left and she's down to the last sugar pill.

"Shit."

She usually didn't bother to take them, but threw them away daily as a reminder to refill the prescription. But as she stares at the last date marked on the calendar, she's sure she screwed up. She stares out the window for a moment, not panicking, but not really feeling calm either. She reasons that she doesn't feel any different…maybe a little hungrier than usual, but that could be PMS, too, couldn't it? She can't fathom the effects on her body from the serum and starts to hope desperately that she isn't pregnant. Maybe she's just late. It happens sometimes, right? Unable to sleep, Mikelle hides the journal away again and steps quietly back into the den where she sits on a couch to watch her lover dream. After spending an hour there, he hasn't moved much, and appears to be perfectly sound. She manages to fall asleep there, awaking only an hour before the sun to run into the bathroom and relieve herself of a full bladder, before tucking herself into bed in the other room. Bucky hadn't said a word all night, she realizes, as she drifts back off to sleep. A sense of relief overcomes her.

This twisting sound awakens Mikelle, and she opens her eyes, blinking awake to find Bucky kneeling on the floor with a screwdriver in his hand. He's fixing the knob on the bathroom door which he'd broken some time ago. She smiles and sits up slowly. Bucky's attention is drawn to her.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," he says, grinning. She can't believe how well rested he looks; there are no longer darkened circles around his marine eyes.

"You look good," she yawns. Bucky grins and continues to turn the screwdriver. He stands to test the knob.

"Here," he says, gesturing Mikelle over. He disappears into the bathroom and closes the door. She listens to him lock it from the inside. Mikelle attempts to turn the handle, and it's successfully locked. Bucky unlocks the door.

"You fixed it," she announces, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm such an idiot," he breathes, embracing her, "Sometimes I forget my own strength."

She laughs before asking Bucky how he feels.

"Great. I can't remember the last time I slept that well. No nightmares…no flashbacks."

He cups her face in his hands.

"Now I don't have to get this arm removed," he smiles. He had resolved to have Stark remove it after staring at the bruise around Mikelle's neck at dinner the previous week. She wouldn't have allowed him, seeing more pros than cons to him having the limb intact. He'd told her how much he frightened himself to wake up strangling her like that, and she couldn't change his mind. She's happy the medication has seemingly managed to do so.

"So you're coming back to bed this week," she says excitedly. Bucky's smile wanes.

"I don't know if that's a good idea just yet. I've only been on this stuff for one day."

She pouts.

"What do you need me for?" he giggles, tracing Mikelle's lips, "It's getting pretty hot now. You don't need me to keep you warm at night."

"What if I don't need you for warmth?" she asks slyly.

"Oh," Bucky grins just the same.

"Well, in that case," he starts, lifting her off her feet before kissing her. As Bucky positions her back onto the bed, Mikelle notices that familiar odd sensation in her toes, slowly spreading up her legs to the rest of her body. Her eyes widen with horror as she realizes what's coming next, she can feel it. This time she won't be able to hide it from James, who is still laughing as he starts kissing her neck.

"James," she breathes, and her voice echoes distantly insider her own head. When she opens her eyes again, the soldier is sitting there, gripping her shoulders, smoothing her hair out of her face, his eyes streaming uncontrollably.

"Mikelle!" And she finally hears him this time. She knows she had another seizure. It's odd, as she hasn't taken the dose yet for the day; the seizures usually follow. She sits up slowly, Bucky starts to calm down.

"Why is this happening, Kelly?" he asks, cupping her face in both hands. It starts again and the next time she's fully aware of her surroundings, Bucky is carrying her outside, and she squints into the sun, which seems like it's literally touching her face, burning. She can see the roof of the car, hear the door slam as he takes off. Mikelle fades in and out of consciousness, or so it seems. She knows the seizures are getting worse.

"No," she calls weakly in the back seat, her protesting hand doubling in her field of vision. Another seizure grips her and she loses control of her body, suffocating for a full minute before able to breathe again.

"No hospitals," she says as clearly as she can in her disoriented state. Bucky ignores Mikelle's pleas as he carries her straight through the doors of an ER, calling for help in a way that scares her more than the seizures themselves…

Bucky's quiet sobs are tangible due to his lips pressed against the back of Mikelle's hand. He's clutching her right hand securely, waiting for her to respond. When she turns to face him, she finds herself in a white bed, in a white room, in a hospital gown, with a headache as if someone is hammering an ice pick between her eyes.

"Thank god," he breathes, gazing skywards and closing his eyes for a silent moment. Mikelle pulls her hand out of his with all the strength she can muster.

"Mikelle, it's okay. You're okay now," he says soothingly, sitting on her bed side. She rolls over, groaning.

"_I said, 'no hospitals,'_" she moans, unable to keep her eyes open very long. The lights are bothering her. Each and every noise, every barrage of Bucky's cafunés, pain her entire body. She whimpers, pushing his hands away.

"What is going on, Mikelle?" Bucky demands, and she detects the slightest hint of anger in his voice. She hates that he's already seen all of this, fearing that it will cause him to regress, the trauma harping on his still healing mind. Bucky grips her shoulders.

"_Tell me_," he demands through gritted teeth, "You've been hiding something from me—don't even lie," he says. She turns slowly.

"Turn off that fucking light, _please_," she whispers, keeping her eyes closed. Bucky stares at her a moment before getting up to secure the door closed and flicking the light switch off.

"Are you on drugs?" Bucky asks sincerely. Mikelle sits up, pushing Bucky's hands away when he tries to help her. His lips tighten with frustration and he looks away, confused as to why she's so angry with him.

"_No_. I am not on drugs."

"Then what's wrong with you? This isn't the first time you refused to go to the hospital. You _know_ something is wrong. So you're just not going to tell me?" He doesn't look at her while he speaks. Mikelle sighs.

"Just don't worry, okay?" she responds defensively.

"…Don't worry? Look at where we are right now. Do you remember anything that happened?"

"Bucky, don't."

"Don't what? Care about you?"

"…I didn't—" she reaches for him and he moves away, standing up to leave the room. He pauses at the door.

"I thought you trusted me enough to tell me what's really going on."

With that, he leaves her to recover. Hours pass before the doctor finally comes to see Mikelle. She's too upset to really care what he has to tell her about the results of the MRI they'd done. She hadn't even been awake while it was taken.

"Am I going to live?" she asks.

"It looks that way. It appears to me that you have suffered head injuries in the past. You said you used to play rugby," the doctor elaborates. That had been James's clever cover for the fact that she'd endured countless explosions where debris often flew and hit her, taking blows in fist fights against men twice her size on missions in her S.H.I.E.L.D. days. To the best of her knowledge, all of that _is_ a plausible explanation, although she knows it has to be connected to the serum she'd been taking; she'd never had a seizure before that.

"Can I go home?"

"I wouldn't advise that just yet. I'd really like to keep you overnight for observ—"

"Can—I—go—home?" she asks with impatience. The doctor sighs.

"Ms. Hass, I would not advise this yet," he explains, his accent not so thick that she decides to simply respond in French. She hates that Bucky is angry with her. Just when things were getting better, they got bad, and she knew it was because of what she'd been doing to herself.

"Fine. I'll just stay," she explains. The doctor leaves and a nurse soon brings her a tray of food. She sits there and cries alone before getting angry. With a flick of her finger, she sends the entire tray careening for the wall. A nurse rushes in to see what all the noise had been about, and just stands in the doorway to stare at the plastic tray that's sitting split in half on the tiled floor. She disappears and soon a janitor walks in, excusing himself in French before cleaning up her mess.

"Je suis désolé…merci beaucoup."

"Bienvenue. De rien. J'ai vu pire," he responds, sending her a warm smile.

She wonders whether the janitor or the nurse even ponders how the tray managed to split in two; the plastic is rather thick, and Mikelle knows that she appears too weak to have broken it with her own two hands. She contemplates not continuing to take the serum, making a mental note to have Fury contact Banner. He's probably the only one who might really be able to help her, maybe even stop the seizures so she doesn't have to quit the experiment altogether. She knows this means coming clean to James. As she slowly levitates the covers down her legs, she starts to believe that keeping this power is worth it. She doesn't feel defenseless anymore, not that she had doubted James's ability to protect her. She knew the only reason she'd decided to try it at all was because deep down, she still had a feeling that she was still on someone's radar, someone she wanted nothing to do with, and it was only a matter of time before they decided to come knocking.

To Mikelle's surprise, it's Steve Rogers that walks into the room the following day, with a bouquet of flowers and an apology from Bucky, who doesn't want to miss therapy to come pick her up if she's still angry with him. Mikelle can't help but tear up a bit, and excuses herself to use the bathroom. A queasiness overcomes her and she quickly kicks back the toilet seat to vomit for a moment that seems uncontrollable. When she's finished and rinsing her mouth clean, she starts to picture the calendar in the day planner she kept hidden away on the balcony at the flat. She stares at herself in the mirror, not wanting to believe she could be pregnant. _The doctor would have seen, right? Didn't they do a blood test? _She's almost too afraid to ask, and she doesn't want to, especially since Steve's the one waiting to drive her home in the adjoining room. She quickly changes back into her own clothes and steps out of the room to find Steve standing there, the flowers still in his hands. He grins.

"Bucky is a mess. I'm not going to lie. What happened, Mikelle? Do you know why you've been having seizures?"

She turns away from Steve's gaze as he hands her the flowers. She shakes her head, but she knows from the look on Steve's face that he can see right through her.

"Well, let's go. I need to stop by the market first," she explains, tugging Steve's elbow.

She ducks out of view in the store and hides a home pregnancy test beneath two boxes of Häagen-Dazs and body wash, collecting her bags and rushing back to the car right before Steve has a chance to see everything she'd purchased, distracted by his own few items.

"Thanks, I'll pay you back," she explains, handing Steve the rest of the change from the francs he'd given her.

"No, no," he grins in his charming way, "Consider it a favor."

They drive in silence until Mikelle asks whether Steve has heard from Fury lately.

"No, but Natasha actually paid me a visit a few days ago. We're thinking about going back to the States. I'm trying to convince Bucky to come with us…he says you really like it here. I don't think he wants to go."

She smiles a moment, her heart beating. Steve spares her a glance that she can't really decipher, but it isn't a bad one.

"He loves you, Mikelle. You know that, right?"

"What?" she asks, staring out the window as the breeze wafts in, fingering the box that she can't wait to get into the house and open.

"James," Steve responds. He stops at a red light and she feels his big hand rest atop her knee. She gasps, turning to face him again. Steve retracts his hand slowly, unsurely.

"You sure you're okay? The doctor didn't seem too eager to let you leave."

"I'm fine. I'm—I'm…" she takes a deep breath.

"I'm okay, Steve." She smiles at him as best she can. When he pauses in front of their building, Steve leans forward to speak through the open window.

"Don't forget your flowers," he says. Mikelle reaches inside the window to retrieve them from him.

"I'll let Bucky know you got home safe. You two should think about coming back to the States with us."

She grins and nods, rushing into the apartment before grabbing the biggest cup from the cabinet and filling it with water. Mikelle bites into one of the cold chocolate bars, the vanilla ice cream on the inside causing her to salivate. She drinks until she's water logged and waits to use the bathroom. As she stares down at the ice cream, she realizes how very possible it is that she'd gotten pregnant; she and Bucky could barely quit each other. She even had some bruises on her inner thighs and knees from all their rough play. She pees on the stick and waits anxiously a few minutes, pacing back and forth in the bedroom. When the test comes out positive, Mikelle freezes and her heart drops into her stomach in a painful way. Somehow, it's not a pleasant surprise. She takes a second test, and then the last one in the box. When they all come out positive, she simply drops to the floor to sit down and stare at them, shaking her head. And just then, she hears Bucky walking through the den, calling her name. She nearly jumps out of her skin, wondering how the hell she hadn't heard him come through the front door. She rises and shoves the tests inside the box before cramming it in the back of her underwear drawer. She rushes out of the room and starts for the kitchen to grab the receipt from the groceries, lest Bucky read off the items she'd bought; he had a tendency to do this in search of coupons, the old geezer. She slams square into him on her way through the den. The impact nearly causes her to go flying back, but Bucky catches her, his eyes suddenly wide. He hadn't expected her to come running out like that. Before he can say a word, she rushes past him, back into the kitchen, grabs the receipt from the bag on the table, and shoves it down the drain, turning on the water and the garbage disposal. By the time Bucky steps through the doorway to figure out why she was running, she's already covering by refilling the empty water filter that sits on the counter.

"Thirsty," she says, grabbing a fresh cup from the cabinet and staring at the filter impatiently. Bucky glances to the left and then to the right unsurely.

"Okay."

She turns to smile at him. He smiles back slowly.

"I thought you were mad at me," he says, crossing his arms with some confusion. Mikelle's mouth hangs open, at a loss for words for a number of seconds.

"I'm sorry, I just don't like doctors," she lies easily. He appears to believe this, but furrows his brows.

"Even when your life could depend on seeing one?"

She places the cup back on the counter top, reaching up to hold Bucky's face in her hands.

"I said I was sorry. Everything is fine now. I promise. You know, the doctor bought the rugby lie. Now that I think about it, I have hit my head pretty hard a couple of times. He thinks I have epilepsy."

This news doesn't calm the soldier down at all.

"He prescribed me something. I'll be fine," she explains before kissing him on the cheek. She makes up the excuse that she's dying for a shower as she disappears into the bathroom to panic about what's really bothering her. Mikelle resolves to call the doctor and have him do another test. She wants to figure out for sure whether she's really carrying Bucky's child. She thinks about the bottled substance hidden under a tile in the kitchen as she walks back in to watch Bucky wash the dishes. He has no idea what he's standing over as he grins back at Mikelle. She fears she's already done the worst to the life growing inside of her.


	9. Chapter 9

Mikelle approaches Bucky slowly, listening to the water run as he turns the sink on. She moans a sigh as she wraps her arms around him.

"Hello," he says, in such a debonair tone that she grins from ear to ear. She begins to run her hands under his shirt, slide her fingers down his abdomen, the muscles clenching under her touch. She blows upon the back of Bucky's head, fixing her gaze again upon the red star hiding beneath his ash-brown locks as they flutter under the sultry gale. Soon she envelopes herself beneath his shirt, so that her cheek is making contact with the heat of his left scapula. Bucky laughs, reaching back with a wet hand to touch her hip lightly.

"Make love to me, please," she requests, wanting to forget about the awful headache that has only subsided a bit since she left the hospital.

"Didn't the doctor tell you to take it easy? No strenuous activity," he responds patiently. Mikelle sighs before turning her lips to assault the soldier's spine. His gaze travels skywards as he leans his head back, moaning.

"You need to get out of there," he says, and she can tell he's smiling. She laughs. Bucky rinses the last of the dishes, clearing the suds off his hands before drying them on a dishtowel and prying at Mikelle's hips from behind. She laughs and snakes out from under the fabric of his shirt. He turns around with a wry grin on his face before shaking his head at her.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asks, his kyanite gaze glossy with worry. Her head feels heavy in The Winter Soldier's hands, heated as if feverish. He presses the back of his bionic limb to her forehead. Mikelle laughs lightly, and then something mechanic makes a _dinging _noise and she pulls her head back slightly, taken by surprise.

"Ninety-six point four," he says.

"What? I had no idea you could do that," she explains with some amazement, gripping the limb and observing the fingers.

"Oh, I told you before, Stark wouldn't stop tinkering with my arm. He…upgraded a few things during one of my maintenance checks—you're temperature is too low."

This is one of the side-effects of the serum. Bucky's brows furrow; it didn't explain why her head felt so hot. He grips her arms to find that they feel warmer than her head.

"I'm fine. I promise," she says easily, and for the moment, James believes her.

"Steve told me that Natasha came to see him and they want to move back to the States. He told me you said I like it here. Do you not want to go?" Mikelle asks. The Winter Soldier pulls her to him and caresses her hair a silent moment.

"…James?"

He sighs, "I don't know," he admits, shrugging. She pulls out a chair to sit down at the table and Bucky follows suit.

"I mean, I want to go with Steve, but…" he trails off, looking Mikelle up and down. He hasn't looked at her quite like this before, and if he has, she hadn't noticed. It makes her nervous. He looks almost hesitant. She tilts her head to the side.

"What's wrong?" she whispers.

Bucky's eyes water slowly. He fights the tears with a smile. Mikelle gets up to straddle his lap and wrap her arms around him.

"I can't remember _a lot _of things, Kelly—things about my childhood. I feel like a bad friend, or something…Steve thinks that if we go home, I'll remember more, but part of me doesn't want to, because I _know _all of the people I ever knew, my friends, family, they're dead. They lived the rest of their lives believing I had died. How am I supposed to deal with that? It'll hurt," he admits. When Mikelle looks at him again, his eyes are dripping silently and he's staring off into space.

"There's nothing bad about you," she says, gripping his cheeks. He slowly meets her gaze.

"And your family must have been so proud of you…in their minds, you died a hero, James."

"How can you stand to love me when I'm broken like this?"

"I'll fix you," she promises, her voice breaking midsentence. She blinks back the tears, "Isn't that what we've been doing, fixing each other?"

"I just think…we've been through enough. Why not stay put?" he asks. Mikelle doesn't have an answer, but she shakes her head, continuing to wipe Bucky's eyes. He buries his face in her neck and sobs. He doesn't cry much, at least not when he's around her. His tears when he nearly strangled Mikelle to death were the first ones she'd seen. Bucky had never allowed her to attend any of his therapy sessions. At first, she had understood; what business could she possibly have in that? There were things about his life she would never know, and things he had forgotten that would remain lost forever. Bucky clutches Mikelle tighter, sobbing against her shoulder. She caresses his hair.

"It's okay," she says, kissing the top of his head. He had been trying to stay strong for her sake. He knows she's scared, even though she's often reluctant to let it show. He hadn't wanted her to feel more vulnerable with him being out of sorts. He's supposed to be indestructible, but the more he regains his humanity, the more he realizes that he's not invincible.

"Sometimes…I just wish I had _died_, that Hydra hadn't found me," he says.

"I feel like I owe Steve something that I can't give him, no matter how hard I try."

"Shhh," she breathes pressing her forehead to the soldier's before kissing him comfortingly. He stops crying.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Mikelle. I love you."

Her heart flutters and butterflies fill her stomach. She and Bucky stay connected there for a number of minutes before he stands and carries her to the den to lie on the couch.

"I'm so tired," he explains, stretching out there and letting his human arm wrap around her. Mikelle tells him to sleep as she turns on the television. Bucky sighs and rests his head against hers, shifting so that she's lying on top of him. She turns the volume down low and the warmth of his chest beneath her head puts her to sleep right after him…A radio that looks like the one Mikelle remembers from spending summers at her grandmother's house is playing Gene Autry's Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. She looks in front of her to find that her vision is in black and white, her hair pinned up in a way she never wore it. She glances down as a pair of arms wrap around her, starting when she realizes how large her stomach is.

"Rudolph, with your nose so bright, _won't you guide my sleigh tonight_?" James's voice sings as he presses two, bionic hands against her belly. She glances back up in the mirror to find that he is also in black and white, his hair much shorter and slicked over to the side in a way that reminds her of Marlon Brando. He laughs as the song slowly comes to an end and he spins her around to kiss her lips.

"How is Mrs. Barnes today? Merry Christmas, honey," he says, and the sound of children laughing and running catches Mikelle's attention. She finds that they're standing in a kitchen, and everything is black and white as two girls with her face and one boy with James's face stare up at them from the table they had run to, stuffing their mouths with eggs.

"Hail Hydra!" They chime in unison. James smiles and laughs, leaning back like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"My little soldiers, is everyone ready to go to church? Uncle Steve is already waiting outside," he says. The carbon copies of James and Mikelle rush outside, where it's snowing, not bothering to put on hats or coats. When the children are out of sight, Mikelle looks out the kitchen window to find an onslaught of people—families—marching in the streets, carrying flags with the Hydra insignia. James whispers worriedly into her ear, grabbing her round stomach.

"Don't worry, Amelia. We'll save this one." Mikelle spins around, grabs his arm.

"What? That's not my name. What happened to your arm, Bucky?" she asks as she grips the biceps of both his mechanical limbs. A sense of fear begins to envelope her.

"The kids!" Mikelle shouts, rushing to get outside. She still hasn't realized she's only dreaming. James grips her arm painfully tightly and stares ahead, causing her to walk slower until she's marching with the crowd, Steve carrying one of the children on his shoulders with a cheesy smile that scares her, Natasha marching and saluting at his side like a marionette. They arrive at the church and Mikelle's knees are buckling in pain as Bucky forces her to kneel in the pews. A priest with no face is somehow still giving a sermon, the only words he reads being, "Hail Hydra," over and over, and over again. Mikelle's water breaks and she screams, the church seemingly unconcerned with her pain, even Bucky, who she knows can hear her as he grips her arm at his side. Serpentine tentacles begin emerging from beneath her dress, between her legs, and she screams in horror. The children are like zombies, saluting and muttering repetitively, "Hail Hydra. Hail Hydra…" Mikelle awakes with wide eyes on Bucky's chest. She takes in her surroundings to find that she managed to sleep all of half an hour. The nightmare still grips her as she sits up slowly, checking to make sure Bucky still has at least one human arm. He continues to slumber as she rushes to get the phone with shaky hands. She carries it outside of the flat and walks down the hall before dialing the number on the card the doctor had given her before she left the hospital, knowing somehow, deep down, that she can't have this baby.

When Mikelle convinces Bucky to sleep in their bed again, she's still unnerved by the nightmare she'd had two days ago. Conflicted, she hadn't stopped taking the serum, but reduced her dose to one cc, and hadn't suffered a seizure since. As they lie down on their sides, they simply stare at each other in the dark.

"If you don't want to go, we can stay here," she whispers.

"No…I changed my mind," Bucky whispers back, drawing her closer by the hip.

"I want to go wherever Steve goes. I'm pretty sure he won't leave without me, anyway." Mikelle kisses his forehead and closes her eyes. After a few minutes spent trying to drift off to sleep, she can still feel Bucky's gaze on her. She opens her eyes to find herself correct; his eyes are open.

"Come on. It's going to be alright, Bucky," she promises.

"You won't hurt me. I haven't heard you talk in your sleep since you started the medication."

She knows this is why he won't close his eyes. He smiles weakly, pulling away from her a little bit. She grips his arm.

"Stay…stay," she whispers.

"Kelly—"

"James."

He allows her to inch closer to him before kissing her forehead. She closes her eyes again. James still hasn't closed his. Instead she feels him press his lips to the side of her face. She grins, rubbing her cheek against his. Shortly, he makes his way on top of her and the touching starts. She reaches down to tug on James's boxers.

"You better not be trying to escape," she warns between kisses. They both know that she falls asleep after a good round of sex. James laughs, but Mikelle grabs his head.

"Hey, you better be lying next to me in this bed when I wake up," she warns, half joking.

"Alright, alright," he gives in.

Her scent is sweet in his nostrils, her hair still damp from the shower. She helps him the rest of the way out of his boxers before he pauses to worship her body with kisses, nipping at her collar bone, kissing his way down her stomach. She moans, the soldier's large hands resting on each breast as he suckles at her navel, massaging the warm mounds. Bucky's touch is an escape, and for the moment, Mikelle forgets about the nightmare and the doctor's appointment she's going to tomorrow, the one she hasn't told Bucky anything about. His hot exhales between her thighs cause Mikelle to lift her waist in anticipation, eager and impatient. Her lower back leaves the mattress as Bucky harnesses her legs over his shoulders. She gasps, gripping the sheets when his tongue invades her abruptly. His effortless strength constantly arouses Mikelle and keeps her in a state of awe. She had come to know him to be a generous and considerate lover, refusing to let himself finish until she had come to his satisfaction. She moans his name as one hand grips her lower back, holding her up against his mouth, and the other brushes over her stomach. His tongue swirls inside her in ways that tantalize Mikelle, causing electrical shocks to run up her spine. A minute more, and her legs are trembling. She reaches up to grab at Bucky's wrist, begging him to fuck her, barely any air in her lungs. He drops her waist gently before crawling on top of Mikelle to acquiesce. She knocks her hips up against his body, taking him deeply in an instant; he had warmed her up so thoroughly that she drips against the sheets. He restrains her arms, beginning at a slow and tantalizing sway of his hips, enjoying the way her body vibrates uncontrollably beneath him. The way he tells her not to move gives her ears orgasms, and she can hardly breathe as she shivers at his touch. His thrusts start off slow, firm, and drawn out to reach deeply within her, gradually growing rougher and sharper until she's starting to clench him from the inside, approaching her climax. Bucky is careful to interrupt this, pulling out just enough so that his head still stretches her, before harshly thrusting his way back through. He brings Mikelle to straddle him in a sitting position and she propels against him desperately until both their bodies pause in the moment of heightened sensitivity, gasps and moans intermingling to fill the moonlight around them. Bucky rests his exhausted head on Mikelle's shoulder, catching his breath while he holds her. They had both worked up a sweat, and she feels the perspiration drip from under Bucky's arm and land upon hers where she grips him, his cum heatedly descending from between her legs as he softens and pulls out. The warm breeze that wafts in through the window brings the scent of their work to her nostrils, and she can smell him all over her body, feel him inside of her in a way that seems permanent.

The appointment is with the same doctor who she'd seen when the soldier had brought her to the emergency room. When she'd left the flat that morning, she'd told James as he showered that she simply wanted to run a few errands. He'd stuck his dripping wet head from behind the curtain to give her an unsuspecting kiss on the cheek, one that kept Mikelle smiling as she walked to her car. She had cried guiltily on the ride to the hospital. She doesn't see the point in telling Bucky about the thing growing inside of her if she's already destroyed it by using the serum and taking the medication the doctor had prescribed her for the seizures. She has no doubt now that the fetus must have been affected.

"Well, you _are _pregnant, Miss Hass," the doctor informs, facing her with a file in his hands. The news doesn't shock her.

"You don't seem very happy to hear this," he adds, leaning in a bit and lowering his voice. She grins weakly.

"I can't have it," she says, looking down, "I'm just not ready to be a mother."

"What about The Winter Soldier?" The doctor asks, standing up.

"My boyfriend doesn't even kn—"

When she finally registers the words that had come out of the physician's mouth, she looks up, ready to defend herself. He's already locking the door.

"What did you call him?" she asks slowly. And as the doctor's back is turned to Mikelle, she spots a red star on the back of his neck, just like the one she'd found on James.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Come now, Mikelle. Don't play dumb," he says, and his French accent dissipates. It's immediately obvious that this doctor isn't who she'd thought he was.

"Tsk, tsk. The traitor. If he hadn't brought you here, if your MRI scans had not been a _perfect match_, you would have managed to stay off our radar."

As he turns around, he draws what looks like a gun from his pocket. Mikelle's heart stops as she stares, caught completely off guard. The last time she'd been at gunpoint, it was The Winter Soldier holding it in her face. She flicks her wrist to throw the man telekinetically at the same time as he pulls the trigger and a tranquilizer dart lodges into the space below her clavicle. As she pulls it out, the room begins to spin and she catches a glimpse of the man lying on the floor surprised, his glasses askew. Everything goes black.

When Mikelle doesn't return by the time the sun goes down and Bucky can't reach her by cell, Steve is the first person he calls. Before he knows it, he's panicking. It isn't like Mikelle not to pick up the phone, and if she misses a call, she texts or calls back no more than ten minutes afterwards.

"Bucky, just calm down. I'm sure she's alright. Maybe she lost track of time. Maybe she forgot to charge her phone," Steve continues calmly as they drive through town all over again. He's just trying to quell the worry and frustration that is beginning to consume the soldier. Bucky slams his hand on the wheel.

"She _doesn't _forget to do things like that, Steve."

They pause at a red light and Bucky looks at his best friend, hands shaking on the wheel with fear.

"What is it, Steve?" he asks impatiently.

"No, you're not going to like it," Steve mutters, staring out the window. Bucky grips Steve's arm and the captain faces him.

"Tell me," Bucky demands.

"Maybe she left you."

Bucky shakes his head slowly.

"No, she would never do that—she doesn't _have _anyone else. Why would you even _think_ that?" he responds with irritation. Steve sighs.

"Let's just go back to your place. Maybe she went home."

Bucky's frustration reaches a breaking point as he rushes into the flat, calling Mikelle's name, only to find that she's still not there. Steve rushes in after him and Bucky begins tearing the apartment apart, hoping to find something, _anything _that might help him find her. He pulls a top drawer clear out of the bureau in frustration, scattering clothes, pausing when a box drops at his feet. He picks it up, not having seen it before. From the label, he can quickly discern that there are things Mikelle had neglected to tell him. In the kitchen, Steve listens to the messages that are still saved on the answer machine, hoping for a clue. Maybe Mikelle even called home. As he paces back and forth, the way the tiles squeak beneath his shoes causes him to pause. He steps in the same place and drops to inspect the tiles. He reaches into the drawer for a knife and jams it into the small space between two tiles. The linoleum pops open and beneath it are hidden a syringe and nearly empty bottle of some reddish fluid.

"Bucky, I found something. Looks like some sort of drug," Steve informs. The Winter Soldier finally notices his friend standing in the bedroom doorway. Bucky drops to the bed, staring at each of the positive tests Mikelle had taken behind his back.

"Bucky?"

His heart sinks when he ponders what might have happened to her.

"She's pregnant," he breathes, eyes wide with fear, "She hasn't even told me."

"…I just got through listening to some messages on the machine. Did Mikelle tell you anything about a doctor's appointment for today? There was a reminder that she had one."

Bucky's eyes widen; Mikelle had _vehemently_ protested when he'd tried to call an ambulance the first time he found her seizing. He couldn't figure out why, the excuse that Mikelle hated doctors not feeling like a good enough reason to refuse him calling an ambulance.

"Hydra," he says with utter anger.

"I doubt it, Bucky. Just wait a minute—"

Bucky runs back out into the hall, knocking on the neighbors' doors, describing Mikelle with great detail, asking whether they'd seen her come or go since he left several hours ago. No one has an answer, and as he grimaces with frustration, he kicks the welcome mat on his way back through the flat door, pausing when something slips from under it. It appears to be some sort of file. He pauses to pick it up. As he throws it on the kitchen table and pulls out the papers, it pains him to see the Hydra insignia on documents that appear to have to do with Mikelle's health.

"Bucky…whatever you're thinking—"

"Steve, they _took _her," he states, staring at the insignia that he wishes wasn't forever etched into his mind's eye. It becomes clearer to the soldier now why Mikelle had refused to be taken to the hospital. She feared she'd be detected, tested on even.

"They found her. It's all my fault! I shouldn't have taken her to the hospital," he explains, his eyes watering, hands trembling.

"Now hold on a minute, James—"

"Are you here to help me, or to doubt my suspicion?" Bucky asks impatiently.

"_Of course_ I'm trying to help you, Bucky. Just take it down a notch and think about what you're suggesting—"

"Steve, I _know_ how they operate and they fucking took her!"

"Are you sure?"

"Where's Fury?!" James fumes.

"You _need_ to calm _down_—"

"_They've got my child_!"

The look in Bucky's eyes frightens Steve, and he knows then that he has to help the soldier, or die trying.


	10. Chapter 10

Natasha doesn't seem to like waking up to find The Winter Soldier standing at Steve's door in the middle of the night, until she sees the captain walk up beside him. She knows that Bucky is no longer a threat, but he'd shot her twice in the past and she doesn't feel much like putting her guard down around him, despite Steve's enthusiasm about the soldier's rehabilitation. Natasha hastily fastens the robe that hangs around her half naked form; she had woken up a few hours ago to the phone ringing and Steve slipping out of bed, saying as she laid half-awake that he was going to help Bucky with something.

"I need to speak to Fury," Bucky states as calmly as possible. Natasha looks to Steve.

"Mikelle is missing. We think she was abducted."

"What time is it?" Natasha asks, sleepily, wiping her eye as she saunters back into Steve's living room.

"Natasha—"

"Alright—okay. I'm going to call Nick right now," she reassures, eying Bucky who stares at a file in his hands, sitting on the sofa. He looks more worried than threatening, and she slowly begins to feel sorry for the man.

"What is this?" Bucky asks, louder than is necessary as Fury steps through the door, closing it behind himself. He watches the director's good eye grow large as the soldier thrusts the bottle Dr. Banner had given him into his face.

"What was Mikelle doing with it? I had to take her to the hospital a few days ago because she'd been having seizures."

"Where is agent Hass now?" Fury asks.

Bucky throws the bottle down at the director's feet, where it smashes open on the hardwood floor. His metal fingers securely grip Fury's windpipe.

"If she dies because of you—!"

"Hey!" Steve shouts, and he separates the two, just as Fury pulls a gun and presses it against Bucky's forehead.

"That's enough. Bucky—_calm down_. You're not going to find her by hurting Nick."

"Keep that goddamn hand off of me," Fury spits, distancing himself several feet, slowly pocketing the gun. Bucky sighs, trembling, Steve and Natasha standing defensively between the two of them.

"Alright, everybody take a chill pill," Natasha declares, "Okay? …When was the last time you saw her, James?"

"This morning. She said she was going to run some errands—didn't tell me where she was going."

"The message, on the machine. She was supposed to go see a doctor. It could have been the same hospital you took her to. Why don't we start there, retrace her steps?" Steve suggests.

"Sounds like a start," Fury explains, glancing around Steve to make eye contact with Bucky, who's still grimacing angrily, his metal fist clenched. His eyes are watery, however, creating a sympathetic atmosphere amongst the trio in his presence.

"What was she doing with this?" Bucky asks again, pointing to the shattered bottle on the floor.

"She _still _hasn't told you?" Nick asks, closing his eyes slowly, praying that Mikelle is at the very least alive, wherever she is.

"Tell me what?" Bucky asks desperately, advancing a step. Steve places a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he says reassuringly. Fury steps around Natasha to meet face to face with Bucky.

"She ever tell you about her telekinesis? She was involved in some research with S.H.I.E.L.D., the goal of which was to harness the brain's fullest capacity. It can be a _very_ potent weapon if unlocked further than most of us are able to utilize it. The serum was developed by Banner, thought it could help Hass regain control of it."

Bucky glances to the right knowingly, recalling how she'd thrown him up against the wall, how tightly she'd held him without even touching him. He'd never felt a force quite like that before. Nick sighs remorsefully.

"The seizures…must've been a side effect. I _told_ her no more than two cc's a day," he mutters, looking Bucky in the eyes.

"Well, the serum worked. She used that power on me the other week. So I guess she'd been having seizures for longer than I realized…she was hiding all of this from me," he explains.

"Let's start at that hospital then. If she was abducted, I can almost guarantee it would have been because of the phenomenon they might have observed in her brain. Hass's brain is _not_ like your average Jane Doe's," Fury explains. Natasha disappears to get ready and a flicker of hope fills Bucky's heart.

"I'm sorry," he says lowly, offering his human hand to Fury. Nick hesitates before shaking it.

"Don't worry about it. You know, she wouldn't tell me why she wanted that telekinesis so badly. Something tells me she just wanted to feel safe. After what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D., I can't blame her."

Bucky's brows clench. _She didn't feel safe with him? Even when she knew what he was capable of?_

"Mikelle is with child, Nick," Steve chimes in, bringing Bucky back to earth, "If we don't find her, it'll mean more trouble for Bucky."

Nobody wanted to deal with that, and Bucky knew it.

"They'll do much worse than kill her," Bucky adds numbly, turning his bionic palm to face him. Already, he can't wait to use it to crush the life out of whoever is to be held responsible.

Steve still hasn't said anything as he hurries down the street, stopping at a red light just before the hospital's entrance.

"Fury and Romanoff should already be in with the distraction while we look for clues…What is it, Steve?"

Steve shakes his head.

"Look, I'm not an idiot. You're not really up for this, are you?"

"Don't be _ridiculous_, Bucky. I'm always with you, and I always will be. Until the very end."

"But you're thinking something. I can see it on your face."

"You _barely_ know this woman, Bucky. And you already went and got her pregnant? I just think that's kind of…fast. And you said she used that telekinesis on you. Why? How do you know she's not a threat to you?" Steve steps on the gas, his eyes wide for a moment. Bucky grasps Steve's arm with his metal hand.

"I barely know _you_," he says, and as Steve pulls into the car park, visibly hurt for a moment, he pauses to stare into Bucky's eyes.

"I don't remember half of the things you tell me about from before we became all of this. Who are you to tell me I don't even know her? She makes me…feel, Steve. Isn't that enough? And she threw me up against a wall—that's _all_. She didn't want me to call an ambulance when I found her having a seizure on the floor. She wouldn't hurt me on purpose."

They're both silent as Steve pulls into a space.

"What if our places were switched and it was Natasha?" Bucky asks as Steve pulls the keys out of the ignition. Steve stares him in the face.

"I didn't mean it like that, Bucky—"

"Sure, you didn't."

Steve's uneasiness isn't assuaged as he watches the panicked way that Bucky stalks towards the elevator. He can't take the silence as they wait, Bucky unable to stand still, practically pulling the elevator doors open when they arrive on the third floor of the hospital, and Bucky makes a b-line for the room Mikelle had stayed in.

"If she means that much to you, then I care about her, too. I'll do anything I can to help." Steve admits quietly as Bucky pauses to wait by the door, which is open a crack. Bucky's head turns three-quarters of the way in Steve's direction, and the captain knows that his apology made it through.

"I didn't mean what I said," Bucky whispers, "Even if I don't remember a lot, I _do_ know you."

And as no one appears to be on the other side of the door, Bucky pushes it open and flicks on the light switch. There's nothing there, not to his surprise, and it doesn't make him feel any less panicked. Captain's phone vibrates.

"Storage room, fifth floor. Natasha found Mikelle's doctor."

Bucky is the first one out of the room and when he finds that there are nurses in the hall, rushing Fury, who is pretending to have horrible chest pains, past on a gurney, he wipes the fear off his face and walks at a normal pace, Steve not far behind him. They walk to the stairwell. They slip into the room in which Natasha is holding a gun to the head of the bald man whose face Bucky remembers from fabricating the rugby lie about Mikelle's head trauma. The first thing the soldier does is kick the man squarely in the chest. The hostage falls back, smiling, yet coughing in discomfort, his hands cuffed behind his back.

"You won't find her now," he grumbles, lying on his side, "She has already been taken."

Bucky pulls Mikelle's switchblade out of his pocket; he had picked it up from the drawer he'd pulled out of the bureau earlier. Suddenly he wonders why she hadn't taken it to keep on her person. It might have come in handy. As Bucky leans down to point the blade at the eyeball of the man who's smiling triumphantly at him, Steve pulls him back.

"We need to get him out of here to question him. Something tells me he's not going to just tell us."

"Easy," Natasha shrugs. She shocks the man unconscious. It proves rather easy to sneak the man out of the hospital on a gurney in the white coats the trio finds in the storage room. Once the hostage is in the back seat of the car, Buck turns around to hold a gun on him, in the event that he would wake up.

When Mikelle comes to, she's quickly aware of how drugged she is, and how restrained. She can't even turn her head to look at anything. A woman's voice meets her ears.

"I wouldn't even think about trying to use that little trick of yours again…"

As her eyes open, Mikelle can finally make sense of the live screen playing before her very eyes, her best and closest friend, Samantha, pushing her little girl down a slide. They are far away, Mikelle knows, but someone is watching the mother and daughter. Mikelle had met the child some months ago, shortly before the demise of S.H.I.E.L.D.. She had even babysat for Sam when she'd go out on dates, in the attempts to meet her Mr. Right, someone that could live up to a father figure for the little girl.

"Don't think she's the only one we've got our eyes on. One wrong move, Mikelle, and they'll never know what hit them."

The woman talking appears shortly in front of Mikelle. She looks to be in her fifties or sixties, with translucent gray eyes that are almost terrifying to look at. Mikelle is strapped to some sort of table, and slowly, it lifts her to an almost standing position.

"You don't have to hurt people…what do you want with me?" she asks.

"It's simple, really. You belong to Hydra. You know now that you were a project, yes?"

As the woman speaking circles Mikelle, she can only follow her with her eyes, her head locked in place.

"We meant to instill you within S.H.I.E.L.D., to take it down. Your parents were supposed to ensure that, but they couldn't even convince you to step away from S.H.I.E.L.D. You refused. They failed. But now you are home."

"Where is this home?"

"And you are going to do our bidding, as you were meant to," the woman continues, ignoring Mikelle's query.

"Your first mission," starts the silver-haired lady, walking out of sight to mess with something behind Mikelle, out of her line of sight.

"Is The Winter Soldier. He betrayed us…pity. Your love story could have ended well, if he had simply completed his mission and brought you back to us. But now he must be terminated. He has been compromised and can no longer be utilized."

Mikelle knows exactly what this woman is suggesting, and her eyes begin to water.

"Please…I'm not on _anyone's _side. Just leave them alone—they have _nothing_ to do with this." Mikelle stares at Samantha on the screen, and knows well that she still believes Mikelle had truly died months ago.

"They are leverage," the woman snaps, readjusting her glasses, and Mikelle notices the device she's holding, which looks like some sort of remote control. She looks to the screen again to find that Samantha is walking to her car with her daughter, the overhead view one as if a sniper were watching from a building nearby.

"Your brain capacity is beyond that of any Hydra agent, Mikelle. You are human, but you are a _perfect_ human. We modified you that way."

She can finally tell that she is in a lab.

"You could even say that I am your mother. I started this project, and if it had not been for S.T.A.A.R., we would have lost you forever."

Mikelle's vision blurs slightly as the woman who she assumes is a scientist approaches her with a look of amazement on her face. Mikelle's eyes catch sight of a red star pin on the pocket of the stranger's black blazer.

"I _have_ no mother," Mikelle spits cruelly, glaring at the stranger, "What the _hell_ is S.T.A.A.R.? Where am I?"

"Simple, Mikelle. We are the System for Tracking AWOL Assassin Recruits—you are a recruit. You are the only embryo that survived this preliminary research project. You are a miracle, and you are at S.T.A.A.R. headquarters, in Berlin. We have another base in Prague, which you will go home to as soon as you complete your first mission."

"You can't make me do anything," Mikelle spits through gritted teeth. The woman laughs, the wrinkles around her eyes intensifying.

"My dear, sweet, _stupid_ girl. You will do as you've been made to do." And with that, she approaches Mikelle and presses a button that unleashes her restraints. Mikelle drops to the floor, her head spinning a moment, before she lifts her hands without any intent and causes the projector screen playing before her to fly off the wall in a minor flourish. She had not made the object move of her own accord. The device in the woman's hand causes her to stand up and aim for the projector screen once more. Mikelle watches her own hands move in time to levitate the object back into place; she no longer has any control over the telekinesis. She drops to her knees with an overwhelming weakness after performing this task, a feeling that she is being physically controlled. Hands come out of nowhere to secure Mikelle on the cold table again, restrain her arms. All she can do is cry as the woman approaches.

"My name is Mina. I am now in control of your telekinesis, and you will do everything you are told from this point on, unless you want the lives of the people you love most cut short."

Mina's cold fingers cup Mikelle's chin. Mikelle's eyes drip, the tears landing heatedly and helplessly into the shells of her ears.

"Such a perfect specimen…The way you threw doctor Vetrov..." (So that's what that bastard's name was).

"I hear he said he barely had time to tranquilize you. Such _strength_. I was right to have picked the perfect donors, two of Hydra's strongest agents, to make you."

Mikelle thrusts her chin out of reach, crying silently, believing at last that there's nothing she can do.

"What's more exciting is that thing growing inside of you," Mina grins, "Who knows how powerful it will be, a combination of the soldier and your strength? I cannot imagine. Time will tell."

Mikelle lifts her head, the only part of her that had not been re-secured to the metal table.

"No," she weeps, her voice barely recognizable.

"It may be possible to pass on these changes we have made in utero. You will be the first of _many_ advanced Hydra agents, the mother of an entirely modified and perfect race."

"Don't touch my baby! I'll _kill you_!"

A sense of despair unlike that which she had ever felt overcomes Mikelle as she struggles against the restraints. Mina presses a button on the remote-like device she's holding and a painful shock sears down Mikelle's spine. She screams in agony before lying down, under the control and at the mercy of perfect strangers. Mikelle whimpers, the pain subsiding, wishing at that moment that they had simply killed her.

"You will start by tearing The Winter Soldier apart—"

"No—!"

"Limb. From. Limb."


	11. Chapter 11

Steve can't help but cringe a bit as Bucky thrusts a switchblade into the thigh of Vetrov, who is strapped to a chair by Natasha's own work. The man gasps, his eyes widening, but he keeps the scream locked up in his throat. This doesn't faze The Winter Soldier in the slightest; Hydra trains its minions this way, to endure agony. Bucky had been put to the same test; not so much with stabbing as with electrical shock.

"Now, the interesting thing about this knife," the soldier starts, gripping the handle in his bionic hand and pushing it deeper into Vetrov's leg. The doctor whimpers ever so slightly, growing red in the face, sweating and shaking.

"Bucky—" Steve starts calmly.

"Is that I can start removing fingers if you refuse to cooperate," the soldier finishes calmly. He pulls the knife out of Vetrov's leg, and the man relaxes only slightly. Natasha is glaring at the doctor with her arms crossed, seemingly unmoved by Bucky's cruelty. Steve can't help but feel unnerved. Deep down, he doesn't like how easy it seems for James to be so violent. Vetrov smiles. Bucky's fist speeds across his face, painting the hardwood with a splash of blood, followed by Vetrov's square-framed spectacles, which land with a surprisingly diaphanous _clink_. When Vetrov slowly turns back to face the soldier, his smile is stained red. He laughs.

"Even if you kill me, _Winter Soldier_, you won't be able to stop Hydra now…you should have finished that mission, or finished that bitch off. She is now a threat to you _all_."

Bucky calmly places Mikelle's switchblade on the coffee table, rolls up his sleeves. Steve turns away as Bucky begins to punch Vetrov to the brink of unconsciousness. Natasha sighs.

"If you put him out, it'll take longer to find her," she explains. Bucky pauses, knowing full well that this is the case, yet his chest heaves with an anger that is nearly blinding.

"Listen," Natasha starts, stepping beside Bucky and resting both palms on her knees, leaning down towards Vetrov's face. He faces her with a grin.

"The Black Widow," he says in Russian. Bucky crosses his arms, catching a quick glimpse of the blood on his knuckles.

"It would pain you a lot less if you just told us where she is," Natasha explains, responding in Russian. Only she, Bucky, and Vetrov understand. Steve leans against the wall to watch.

"You don't have a _clue_ as to what you're getting yourself into," Vetrov snarls, addressing them all in English.

"Hydra will resurface with more power than S.H.I.E.L.D. could _ever_ have gained. So thank you, Winter Soldier, for delivering Hass back to her creator. She would not have been found if you had refrained from hospitalizing her. Thank you—"

The chair falls back; the force of Bucky's fist hitting Vetrov in the face causes him to fall in one fell swoop. He coughs and sputters, his nose surely broken. Bucky grabs the switchblade off the table and swings it open again after cracking his knuckles in a nonchalant—yet no less menacing—manner.

"I don't have time for this," he says darkly, straddling Vetrov.

"You have five seconds to tell me where she is or I will blind you," Bucky informs calmly. One, two…Natasha grabs Steve's arm, thwarting him from approaching. The pair are standing behind the soldier, unable to see how near Vetrov's eye Bucky holds the blade. A swift movement of Bucky's hand paints a crimson cut across Vetrov's cheek. The doctor grumbles painfully, but quietly.

"Three, _two_—"

Vetrov shouts out a location and a name, gasps for air in fearful drags. Bucky throws the blade aside.

"Thank you, doctor Vetrov," he says. He takes both Natasha and Steve by surprise. And then his fists are flying frantically with every punch he throws across Vetrov's face. Steve finally approaches him, Natasha turning her head and releasing the captain's arm.

"Bucky…Bucky," he says, placing his hand on the soldier's arm. He finally stops and Steve can barely recognize Vetrov's face as he lies there unconscious, bleeding.

"Help me get rid of him."

When Mikelle awakens again, she has no idea where she is, but the feeling as if someone were hammering an ice pick between her eyes returns. She need not ask to know her head has been messed with. The room appears to be some sort of padded cell, and a one-way mirror is facing her where she's sitting propped up against a wall. Mina's voice meets her ears.

"Good morning, Miss Hass."

Mikelle stands slowly, finally finding herself stable upon her own two feet.

"…What the hell do you want?!" Her own voice resounds throughout the massive space.

"Your compliance, Mikelle. We have deactivated your control of the telekinesis and modified the chip in your brain in connection with my own. This gives me the capacity to…guide your use of it, at least until you understand whose side you're really on. Here, we will test your strength before you begin your very first mission."

"…I'm not going to help you do jack _shit_," Mikelle spits fearlessly up at the mirror where she cannot see the scientists watching her. There is a moment of silence before an excruciating shock zips down her spine, bringing Mikelle to her knees. She curls up into a ball on the floor and it stops.

"We can do this all day, Hass. It is time for your full cooperation. Don't think I need to be able to see you in order to control you…I can see _everything_ you see. Our minds are connected now. You are not in control."

Mina's voice is like poison as Mikelle wipes her eyes, which had begun to tear up in the moment of agony. There is a mechanical noise overhead and Mikelle gazes above her to find what appears to be a machine gun of massive proportions slowly descending to face her head on. She swallows hard, but decides that she would rather die than kill James. For a moment she ponders the red star on the back of his neck, the star on the doctor's neck, and wonders how he hadn't known about S.T.A.A.R.. She stands to her full height and closes her eyes, preparing for her final breath. And as she stands there, she begins to weep helplessly, the tears filling her closed eyes and leaking out with difficulty. She holds her voice deep down, doesn't make a sound.

"_Focus_," Mina demands. Mikelle opens her eyes. She would rather see the bullet coming. Five rounds later, her heart jumps and pauses, and without voluntarily moving at all, Mikelle finds both of her hands lifted, palms facing the machine gun; all of the bullets lie not far from her near the wall, as if they had been smashed or melted down. She knows then that she has done this. A second weapon is lowered into her holding cell, and this time Mikelle only stares with widened eyes, watching her hands swat, her wrists flick against her own volition, sending bullets flying back each time they shoot at her. She begins to wonder how any of this is physically possible, considering the speed at which the weapons are firing. And then her hands drop and only her mind moves as the bullets go flying away from her. A flame thrower descends next and Mikelle's heart jumps in honest fear as she feels the heat against her skin, but with her hands in place defensively, the telekinesis keeps it from touching her. She is in awe, but in fear simultaneously. She's hardly doing any of this by herself. And her heart sinks when she finally realizes that killing James is not her choice to make.

Mina and her minions don't allow Mikelle to leave the chamber until she is so exhausted from standing that she sits on the cold ground sweating profusely. She finds it unbearable to be chained to the floor by both hands upon what appears to be a SWAT team coming in to surround her. She had tried to access the mental movement again, but found it to be ineffective in her own attempts. Mina's control was impregnable. Mikelle is allowed to eat and drink, and even shower afterwards, but while being watched the entire time. She begins to feel a sense of helplessness. She's no longer in control. She knows that by now, James is trying to find her, and she has no way of telling him to stay away. She closes her eyes to cry again, and after a few more seconds of soaking under the water, she hears a voice she thought she'd never hear again.

"Out," he says.

Mikelle hastily wipes her eyes and looks to the left into the eyes of Elias Goretti, the last man she had loved before Bucky. He grins up at her from where he's standing, with deep brown eyes and the same thick dark hair and long eyebrows she remembers spending forever tracing with her thumbs as she'd laid on his sturdy chest at night. She thinks for a moment that she's dreaming, but as the water shuts off and he wraps the towel around her, pulling her down out of the shower, Mikelle finally realizes that he is no apparition.

"When they said they found you, I just couldn't believe it," he says casually, as if he hadn't lied to her and betrayed her trust. Mikelle pulls away, stepping back until she's against the wall. Elias grins, crossing his arms and staring down at the space she'd created between them. Elias had been her fiancé, someone she once trusted with her own life. After he proposed, he'd been trying to convince Mikelle to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and disappear with him. She could never figure out exactly what he'd meant or what he'd wanted, but standing in the facility now, she plainly sees that she had been _his_ mission. He was loyal to Hydra and had been recruited to sway her back to the wrong side. She nearly vomits, remembering all of the moments they'd shared, the way that his voice alone used to make her heart beat rapidly. He makes her heart beat rapidly now because she despises him.

"Elias…" her voice is shaky and unsure.

"I put…a bullet in your chest," Mikelle breathes, pulling the towel tighter around herself. Elias simply laughs.

"Yeah, I got over that," he says nonchalantly, "You didn't even have the guts to finish me off. No, you just walked away, thinking I would bleed out…that you could just leave me there to die." He lifts his head and she meets his eyes. She had cried bitterly, unable to _make damn sure_ she'd finished him. He had shot one of her good friends, an agent at S.H.I.E.L.D. during the turmoil, when everyone realized they had been played. Mikelle refused to join Elias, so he killed an agent she had been friends with, completed many missions beside, for years. It hurt to see Elias so evil, and she had sincerely wanted to avenge her friend's death. Mikelle was sure she'd shot him fatally, but the rate at which S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was blowing to bits, she couldn't wait around to make sure. She needed to get out alive. She didn't even get the chance to recover her friend's body.

"…You son of a bitch," she snarls.

"You're _still_ something else, Mikelle; feisty, defiant, trying to come off as _brave_ and _strong_ when really you're scared shitless. Don't give me that, 'Oh, you son of a bitch,' nonsense. I knew this day would come," he says, approaching her, his dark eyes suddenly filling with light.

"And even after all of it, I still love y—"

Mikelle extends her leg and manages to kick Elias in the chest. He had come too close. He falls back unsteadily a moment, before heaving a sigh and coming straight at her.

"I'm not afraid to hurt you," he says as she slides down the wall, shaking. Elias grabs her and pulls her up violently by the arm.

"And baby, you better get used to it here. Because you and I, we're going to be partners," Elias prattles cheerfully, Mikelle weeping silently as he practically drags her to another room. She tries again to tap into the telekinesis, and it fails her. Mikelle manages to finally yank her wrist free and go invisible right before Elias has the chance to turn his head. She only makes it about four or five feet at a run before he lunges and topples her to the floor. She's almost certain one of her ribs has cracked as Elias yanks her up by the hair and brings Mikelle to stand. She gives up the attempt to run for it, knowing full well he's _still _too strong for her.

"You think I forgot that you can do that?" he asks in disbelief.

"Don't be _fucking stupid,_" he shouts, frightening her for a moment. Elias swings open the door to another room, where there's a bed, a toilet, and windows that are so high up, Mikelle can't even reach them by standing on the bed. She cries audibly as Elias throws her up against the wall and slams the door. There is a knock as she cowers on the bed, in the corner. Elias rolls his eyes impatiently before opening it. Two guards attempt to enter and he presses his hands against their shoulders.

"Guys, it's fine. This is my wife. We have history—"

"I was _never _your fucking wife," she spits, wiping her eyes.

"I'll be fine. She's not going anywhere. Can I _please_ have a moment? I've been asking Mina since she was found."

Slowly, but surely, the guards back off and Elias shuts the door again. Mikelle grasps the thin blanket there and pulls it around herself. Elias laughs.

"You dyed your hair," he says, sitting on the cot. Mikelle pulls away from Elias as far as she can. He reaches out and pulls the blanket from her grasp in one swift motion. She closes her eyes tightly a moment. He's still as strong as she remembers him being. His strength used to arouse her. They used to spar together, and he was the _one_ agent she couldn't subdue; he moved too fast for her. She doesn't open her eyes when she feels Elias grip her leg.

"We could have been together," he says, the tone of his voice much softer. Mikelle pulls her leg out of his grasp and Elias sighs.

"I haven't loved anyone since you, Kelly, you know that—"

"_Shut up_!" she barks. She feels her face in both his hands and finally looks.

"They were saying stuff about you—you and that Winter Soldier…I knew about him before you ever even _met_ him," Elias declares. He's holding her face just a little bit too tightly. His eyebrows clench angrily.

"Is it true, Kelly? Is it fucking true?" he asks. She doesn't answer, and instead struggles beneath his grasp. He's still so handsome, but it doesn't alleviate Mikelle's nervousness. He doesn't unhand her face, so she spits at him. Finally, Elias pins her down roughly, something he'd done a myriad of times in the past, but not with the intent of hurting her.

"You let that old piece of shit touch you?" Elias asks quietly, his voice the calm before the storm she feels coming. Elias's coffee eyes travel to her navel, where he can see everything, the towel having slipped off. She struggles and knees Elias in the stomach. He backs off a moment, only to rip his belt free from the loops on his jeans. She backs up against the wall, sitting up with tears in her eyes, aware that there is absolutely nothing she can do to stop the violent act from occurring.

"Mina wants you to have it, did you know that? They're going to make that baby a whole new project, make it invincible," Elias explains, and as he's pulling his pants off, Mikelle closes her eyes. She doesn't want to see him, doesn't want to remember him being inside of her and enjoying it. Nonetheless, she screams when Elias mounts her. She screams for help, but nobody opens the door. Nobody stops him, and Elias doesn't stop. She pulls at her hair, wishing it were Bucky breathing hotly against her neck, fucking her to a point of soreness. There reaches a point during the assault where she merely stares blankly up into Elias's face, in disbelief that this monster was once the man she had loved. Elias's face contorts into a strange anguish as he grunts satisfactorily.

"I hope it fucking dies," he spits, his hatred tangible as he propels himself faster between Mikelle's thighs. She wasn't going to plead with him and give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her, how much he had hurt her by lying, and how much he's hurting her at the present moment. When Elias finishes, he catches his breath against Mikelle's face, turns it left and right in his hands as if trying to see whether anything has changed since he last saw her. She remains unresponsive to his touch when he kisses her. Shortly, he gives up the task, knowing that she could never love him again.

"You're going to kill him, Kelly. And when you do, I will be there watching. And when you're over him, we will start over," he promises, as if he hasn't just savagely defiled her. Somewhere deep down, she knows that he will pay for this.

During the night, Mikelle still hasn't moved from where she'd been lying after Elias raped her. She had put on the clothing available to her and simply laid there, staring into space, broken. She wants only to put an end to all of this. There is nothing in the room she can conceive of utilizing to take her own life. She ponders jumping off the bed and slamming her head into the sink to crack her skull, but the certainty of death is uncertain; given all their technology, she doesn't count on it being an irreversible option. She starts to believe that it is really the end, that she had been played her whole life. Somehow in her discomfort, the woman falls asleep. The sound of an alarm causes Mikelle to sit up straight, the noise drowning her ears replacing her sense of calmness with anxiety. The door flies open and the two guards who had done nothing to stop Elias from brutalizing her direct Mikelle out of the room. She allows them to grab an elbow each, only wondering whether her safety depends on leaving the facility. One of the guards says something in code into a walkie-talkie. When he says "over" for the third time, she gets the feeling that something has gone wrong. The two guards spare each other unsure glances before something makes noise behind them. She watches the guard to the left fall to his knees before keeling over unconscious, and then the guard on the right releases her elbow, turning to shoot at someone who appears to be coming from the ceiling. The weapon is kicked out of his hand and Mikelle doesn't bother to see who's doing the kicking before hurrying for the gun on the guard who had already been incapacitated. She turns to point the weapon and finds herself face to face with Natasha, the second guard lying coldcocked on the floor.

"We need to run, _now_," she says clearly and loudly over the sounding alarm, and Mikelle doesn't waste any time asking questions or hesitating before following after Natasha.

"They were keeping you in the basement. We need to get up ten flights of stairs to make it to an exit," Natasha informs as they start through a door. Mikelle has not put down the gun she'd managed to take off the guard.

"Steve set up explosives that are going to blow in six—"

A door swings forward from what seems like nowhere, and Natasha flies back against Mikelle, the both of them tumbling down the flight they had just run up. Natasha is unconscious against the wall on the floor, and to Mikelle's dismay, Elias is standing at the landing, already pointing a gun at her. Mikelle's foot feels twisted and her back had taken a hit while tumbling, the gun having fallen down an extra flight and out of sight. For a moment, she feels paralyzed. She manages to stand slowly. Elias merely stands in place and smiles.

"You've still got it," he says pleasantly. Mikelle slowly ascends the staircase.

"I just can't let you leave…You're still so beautiful," he says. Mikelle wonders how she had failed to realize what a psychopath Elias really is. Just as he reaches for her hand, his gaze is torn up one flight of stairs, and he ducks before a star-spangled shield is able to make contact with his head. The round shield lies planted firmly in the wall behind Elias.

"That could have fucking killed me," he growls, rising to a standing position again.

"That was the plan," Mikelle retorts.

Elias is distracted in a fist fight with Steve as Mikelle hurries back down the stairs to wake Natasha. Steve manages to kick Elias through the door he had used to knock the women down the stairs. Natasha blinks a moment before standing up and they start up the stairs again, Steve following after them a flight down. She wonders whether he'd managed to get rid of Elias, but doesn't bother asking as she and Natasha rush up the stairs.

"Where's Bucky?" she pants once they make it to the tenth floor.

"He's taking care of that woman."

"Mina," Mikelle seethes. And suddenly, right in the lobby, Mikelle sends Natasha flying for the glass window with a wave of her hand. She feels the strange magnetic pull, throwing Steve right after. Knowing she is being controlled again, Mikelle fears for James's safety as glass shatters at her feet.

"Mikelle," Bucky calls, and she sees him running at her with wide eyes, guns in both his hands, in disbelief of what she'd just done to Steve and Natasha.

"James—I can't control it," she pleads. There is a sharp blow at Mikelle's back and she falls to her knees, Elias making his presence known again. Shots fire and he dives out of the way as Bucky shoots relentlessly at him, shattering the rest of the windows behind her. Mikelle gets down on her side, writhing in pain a moment.

"Come out, you fucking coward," James growls. The next shot fired hits him instead, ricocheting off his bionic arm. He turns to find on the floor several feet up, Mina with a bloodied nose and busted lip aiming at him. Mikelle screams as Elias forces her to her feet.

"You're going to kill him," Mina spits, wiping the line of blood from under her nose. Mikelle struggles in Elias's grasp.

"No!" She screams, kicking her feet, but his grip is just about as strong as Bucky's had been when she'd tried to escape him for the first time. Elias points a cold gun to her temple.

"If you don't, we're just going to have to take both of you out," he says.

"The Winter Soldier has been terminated as a project. We must ensure the capacity of the next one, and that is _you_, Miss Hass," Mina informs. Elias shouts painfully behind Mikelle and she turns to find Steve reclaiming his shield, Elias dragging himself away. James aims to shoot Mina again from where she's situated above them, and she disappears. Mikelle then loses control of her hands again and throws Steve back through the broken glass windows. She turns on James, whose body slowly lifts up off the ground, the guns knocking from his hands and flying far away on either side of him. Elias is trying to pick himself up off the wall. Bucky stares down at Mikelle with nothing but love in his eyes, and all she can do is cry as she watches his body float up above her, his arms spreading as if in preparation to be crucified.

"Don't make me do this!" she screams, searching for Mina, but the coward has disappeared from sight.

"It's okay," Bucky breathes, the weakest smile spreading his lips. Mikelle protests to the nth degree and watches in horror as Bucky's arms pull away from his body forcefully, in a way that looks like he's simply stretching. His eyes close and a tear rolls down his cheek, his face reddening as his head slowly tilts back. Mina would have Mikelle tear him apart. Just when Bucky begins to scream, Mikelle feels something harsh hit the back of her right leg. She screams, registering the sound of a gun being fired a second time, sending her crippling to the floor. James groans, able to stare down at the sight below him on the floor.

"_Don't_, Steve!" he shouts in an agonized manner that brings tears to Mikelle's eyes, and she knows who is standing behind her, pointing a gun at her back. Elias standing against the wall shoots at Steve, who blocks it with his shield.

"Stop me!" Mikelle cries, unable to put her hands down and remove the force attempting to rend her lover's body to bits. James lets out another agonized cry as he feels his metal limb trying to disarticulate from the rest of his body.

"Steve, don't!" He screams again, and Mikelle already knows what the captain is preparing to do to her. She cries, staring up at Bucky in pain, pleading to be released from the control over her. Elias laughs at the side, decidedly convinced that Steve will no longer be of any service after the gun and shield are ripped from his hands, as Mikelle turns her head swiftly for a moment and he goes flying back again.

"Kelly, you've still got it," Elias beams, clapping before wiping the blood from his nose.

"But I must say, you don't get as wet as I remember."

She knows he's only doing this to torment James even further.

"You son of a bitch," Bucky growls through gritted teeth, the force on his limbs letting up only enough to allow Elias to continue.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Kelly's fiancé, the one she probably told you she killed. It's too bad you won't get to stick around to meet your kid. But don't worry, I'll take good care of him." Elias stands behind Mikelle to watch and James screams as the energy intensifies on his arms and legs, tearing his gaze out of view as his head contorts back against the ceiling. Screaming, fearing what she's about to witness, not wanting to see, yet watching, Mikelle's hands disappear before her very eyes; fear is what triggers her invisibility. James suddenly crashes to the floor as Mikelle kneels there, invisible to even her own eyes. She'd felt unable to control the fear of watching James die before her eyes. It dawns on her then that Mina can no longer see what Mikelle sees, and as James stands up, his eyes sweeping the ground, she knows not even he can see her. There is a pain at the back of her head as Elias's foot makes contact with her skull. Mikelle is visible again when she falls out cold on the floor, Elias sinking his boot into her abdomen, screaming obscenities.

"You never deserved her," he snarls, meaning each word for James.

Elias drops to his knees and reaches for a shard of broken glass on the floor. He stabs Mikelle in the abdomen. It's too late when James pounces on him, gathering all the strength he can in the bionic limb, which feels as if it might suddenly drop from his body, and punches Elias so hard in the chest, that there is a _cracking _noise and he coughs up blood before crashing to the floor. Steve is limping slightly when he comes back through the door, and the earth beneath Bucky's knees quakes as he bloodies Elias's face with both fists. Fire bursts through the second floor, where Mina had been standing moments prior.

"Bucky, we've got to get out of here!" Steve informs, picking Mikelle up off the ground. She's bleeding profusely, her pants and shirt beginning to saturate with the red fluid. Elias is unconscious when Bucky squeezes his hands around the man's throat, screaming, blind with fury.

"Take her!" he shouts at Steve, not removing his eyes from Elias until his face pales with death.

"I'm not leaving you—let's go!" Steve gazes down at Mikelle in his arms, unsure whether she will make it. Bucky looks up at the captain pleadingly.

"_Take her_," he says firmly, still squeezing Elias's throat. He doesn't want to leave until he cannot feel the man's pulse. Another explosion ensues and the ceiling begins to rain down on them. Steve takes a step back.

"Bucky!"

At last, the soldier stands and is nearly flattened by the debris that comes tumbling down. They run out of harm's way in just enough time to miss the final blast that brings the building down into a sinkhole.


	12. Chapter 12

"What's the verdict?" Steve asks as Bucky turns slowly away from the doctor. The man stops trembling and smiles weakly.

"They said she's going to make it," he breathes, relieved. Steve places his hands on Bucky's shoulders. Bucky winces, his metal limb swaying back loosely. Steve releases Bucky's left shoulder.

"Bucky...I'm sorry I shot her—I had t—"

"I know, I know, Steve," Bucky grins.

"You heard what she said, she wanted you to stop her," the soldier admits, hastily wiping a tear from his eye that managed to fall.

"You can personally apologize to Mikelle later." The Winter Soldier grins, but he has a deep down feeling that the war is only half won. Steve returns the grin regardless.

"You really need to get that checked. Damn near tore you apart." Steve's gaze sticks to Bucky's bionic arm. He can barely lift it now. Bucky laughs.

"No one here can help with this. I'll call Stark."

Mikelle's head spins when she tries to open her eyes. She shuts them tightly. After hearing some German chatter, she dares to open her lids a second time. Her vision is double, but she sees clearly enough what is going on. Someone is injecting something into an I.V., which she need not look at her arm to tell is on its way into her veins. Unable to detect Bucky's voice, she isn't sure she's really safe. Mikelle lunges forth to the best of her weakened ability, screams, and kicks the nurse, who is trying to give her what she does not know is only more morphine. Steve and Bucky make out the commotion and in half a second, they are both rushing to the room. Mikelle's hand flies across a doctor's face. She can barely see and all she feels is pain.

"Mikelle," Bucky calls clearly, rushing inside at the screaming woman, pulling a nurse aside as she attempts to tell him to get back. Bucky is then held back by two more doctors who have rushed in past Steve, who is watching from the doorway. A nurse calms Mikelle down with one swift syringe, and she is laid back to sleep. When Mikelle awakens the second time, she finds that her hands and feet have been strapped and restrained. She starts and The Winter Soldier looks up from praying at her side where he sits in a chair. Mikelle begins to sob.

"Mikelle, you're safe. I'm right here," Bucky ensures soothingly at her side. He sits beside her in bed and pulls her head against his chest, wrapping his human arm around her shoulders. He shushes her. Mikelle doesn't give up struggling, the nurse stepping through the doorway. He eyes the syringe she's holding unsurely. Bucky sighs.

"You won't be needing that again. She's not dangerous, she's _scared_," he stresses.

"She kicked that nurse across the room, sir."

"I don't think you have any idea what this woman has just survived. For _God's sake_, take these goddamn restraints off of her—she's not a fucking animal. _Please_."

The nurse approaches and Mikelle finally relaxes, feeling Bucky's lips upon her brow, his voice gently telling her repeatedly that she's safe. Once her arms are finally set free, Mikelle reaches for Bucky's bionic wrist. She gazes up at him, those wide set steel eyes threatening tears, despite the smile on his face.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, "I couldn't stop."

"It's alright now, baby."

"He raped me," she chokes out weakly, her voice breaking midsentence. All she wants to do is plunge into scalding hot water, but as Bucky continues to placate her, she finds that her right leg is in a cast; she vaguely recalls being shot.

"He's never going to touch you _ever again_."

The finality of Bucky's words make Mikelle understand that Elias is dead. There was a time when this fact would have broken her heart, but as Mikelle sighs, she feels a small weight fly off her chest. As she attempts to shift, a sharp pain causes Mikelle to slump back down and she grasps at her lower abdomen where it feels as if she's been sliced open. She peels the hospital gown up and runs her hands over bandages, slowly weeping remorsefully. When she looks back into James's eyes, he's crying, his lips twisted in an attempt to smile.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers, the question sad and honest. She covers her eyes with both hands.

"What happened?" she inquires blankly.

"He stabbed you…while you were unconscious. He killed our baby…so I killed him," James states vengefully. Mikelle dries her eyes, and she can't think about it anymore. She squeezes James's human hand gratefully.

"I wasn't sure what to do, Bucky…I thought it was as good as dead. I'm sorry."

"No…it's not your fault. But why didn't you tell me what you were doing? Maybe I could have helped you…it's why you got sick, the serum you were taking."

"_I didn't want you to get hurt_," she says, staring ahead. Bucky wipes his eyes and is stunned, confused even. Fury had said he thought Mikelle wanted to feel safe. Hadn't she confided in Nick to a further extent than she had confided in him?

"Kelly, I would have been there for you. Haven't I been? Nick told me you wanted to feel safe, that you thought having the telekinesis would give you a greater chance of ensuring that."

She's silent.

"I could've—"

"No, James. There's nothing you could have done. You were never supposed to find out. Seeing as what happened just happened, can you really blame me for wanting to be prepared?"

"You didn't think I could protect you—?"

"No," she says vehemently, "That's not what I meant. I almost _killed_ you, James. _You_ were the one I was trying to protect."

"Yet you couldn't even protect yourself. How did they get you in the first place?"

"I didn't have time—he tranquilized me. I could have gotten away if that didn't happen. I just thought I was seeing the doctor. How stupid of me." She whispers the final words, shifting her head away from James's gaze, where he can't see her expression.

"I'm not angry, Kelly. I just wish you would tell me things. There's nothing I wouldn't tell you if you asked."

She's silent again.

"Steve said he's sorry he shot you."

"I wanted him to stop me," she says plainly. Bucky reaches to tuck hair behind Mikelle's ear, noting a bruise on her neck. The mark is similar to the ones he'd left on Mikelle's body before. His stomach turns at the thought of Elias sucking her flesh there, and he boils with rage, despite knowing he'd already put an end to the bastard.

"There's more of them, James. We're not safe. Mina said something about another home base in Prague."

"We'll deal with it when we have to. But right now, you need to recover—"

"_There's more of these people after me_…and I think you know by now that they want _you_ dead," she says, looking up into his eyes with a watery gaze.

"Kelly—"

"We shouldn't be together. It'll just get someone killed—"

"_Mikelle_—"

"You should leave me here, go back to the States with Steve—"

"_No_," James stresses loudly and firmly. Mikelle closes her eyes, weeping audibly.

"I'm _not _going to leave you."

"As long as you don't stay away from me, you're in danger," she chokes, gripping his bionic hand.

"You can't do this to me, Kelly. Aside from Steve, you're all I have."

"And you always _will _have me, just not in the way you want—"

"_No_! Just stop talking, Mikelle. Alright? I'm going to take care of you, and you're in no position to try and stop me," he says firmly. She smiles weakly.

"If Hydra wants me dead, it won't matter whether we're together or not, whether they can use you against me or not; they'll come. We're better off sticking together. Do you _hear_ me?" Bucky cups Mikelle's face in his hands. She looks deeply into his eyes before leaning her head forward to kiss him, still sobbing.

"I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you. That was never part of the mission. I was supposed to bring you back to Hydra, kicking and screaming, but alive…We escaped _together_, and we're staying _together_. Besides, I'm too in love to stay away from you now."

They had abandoned their flat, James flying back to Paris to collect what little they needed while Steve and Natasha accompanied Mikelle to D.C.. Natasha had some ties with ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and managed to find two quiet homes in suburbs where the couples could re-establish themselves. As Mikelle uses her crutches to hobble towards a window, all she wants to do is re-decorate. Steve assures her that Bucky will be there soon, but she doesn't stop worrying, even after the captain spends the next two days sleeping on her couch and keeping a close eye on their surroundings until one Wednesday morning at three a.m., the sound of somebody moving about downstairs awakes Mikelle. She can hear Steve and Bucky's voices quietly, and stops reaching for the handgun Natasha had stashed in the drawer of the nightstand. Mikelle reaches for the crutches and stands to start down the stairs.

"James?" she calls, just as the top of his head appears, his hair pulled back into a ponytail as Steve moves past with another box. Bucky turns to gaze at Mikelle up the stairs.

"Just go back to sleep. I'll be up in a minute," he promises.

She falls asleep before he crawls into bed and pulls his right arm around her. He hates seeing her so broken, the bruise on her neck having faded nil since they'd laid together in a hospital bed in Berlin a few days prior. James had stopped by Stark to have his arm fixed, even told him all about what had happened. As he slowly wraps the bionic limb beneath Mikelle in the dark, he still wishes he could strangle Elias just one more time. Bucky sighs before pressing his lips against Mikelle's shoulder for a long moment. She doesn't even stir, and all he can hope is that she isn't nightmaring. Dreams take him…

"That's not _fair_, you're using the arm again," Mikelle explains, struggling in the headlock Bucky has her in. He laughs. Only one month ago she had seemed so fragile still, constantly refusing his help in her cast, dreading traveling up and down the stairs. She had started to make it difficult to take care of her. Mikelle learned to be independent; she had to be after leaving S.H.I.E.L.D.. Fury had come by to check in on them a week ago. Mikelle lost the telekinesis after all. She has no recollection of the things Hydra's scientists had done to her when she was abducted, but she presumes that it all went to shit when the building collapsed.

"I still think she got away," Mikelle grumbles, dropping to her knees to flip Bucky over her head and cause him to land on his back with a _thud_ on the hardwood. He blinks up at her where she straddles him suddenly, using her waist to pin his neck against the floor. He laughs only a moment before gripping her rear in both hands. She doesn't move an inch.

"I'm telling you for the last time, Kelly, that facility went down. We destroyed it. There's no way Mina had time to escape."

"But you didn't _see her_ die, did you?"

Bucky sighs and lifts up off the floor, causing Mikelle to lean forward upon her hands. She slides down his chest as he wraps both arms around her, catching a glimpse in her shorts of the scars from the bullets Steve had put in her leg.

"It's all gone, Mikelle," Bucky breathes reassuringly, the warm breeze of the beginning of July wafting through and hitting them in their pile of tangled limbs on the floor. Bucky had been trying to teach Mikelle every move he knew, in case there was something she didn't know how to do. She'd asked him, and he knew she was waiting for the next Hydra attack. Neither of them had to mention it to know. Bucky grips Mikelle's breasts, and he knows from the way that she sighs that her eyes are closing.

"We're not finished, James."

"I think we are," he breathes lasciviously. He reaches between Mikelle's legs, slips his human hand beneath her underwear. Mikelle grips Bucky's wrist.

"Hey—"

"Shhhhhh."

It's only been a number of days since Mikelle's mobility had returned enough to even walk without the crutches. Bucky hadn't fucked her since the night before her abduction. He hadn't tried to while she was recovering, either. Mikelle grips Bucky's wrist harder in both hands, sitting up straight where she's straddling his legs as he begins to kiss into her bare shoulder, pulling the strap of her tank top aside.

"Your pussy misses me, doesn't it?" he whispers. When she starts pulling away from Bucky, it takes him by surprise for a moment. She stands up, readjusts her top, and starts into the kitchen, mumbling that she's thirsty. Bucky sighs, left hard and sweating from their spar. Mikelle hasn't said a word about Elias since they were in Germany. She wouldn't talk about what he had done to her, either. The soldier knew Elias had done more than stab her, things that would make him violently ill if he had seen firsthand. He stands up, stretches, reaches for his shirt off the arm of the couch. He pulls it on as he walks into the kitchen to find Mikelle staring out the window with her arms crossed. He approaches her hesitantly. When Bucky wraps his arms around her, she leans away and starts towards the refrigerator.

"Mikelle."

"I told you, it's not fighting fair when you use the arm. It's too strong for me."

He knows she's not really upset about this.

"Will you just talk to me?" Bucky asks, closing the refrigerator door where Mikelle has transferred her stare. She looks away from him, this uneasy expression washing over her face. Instead of trying to touch her again, Bucky merely stands there facing her.

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to _think _about it," she says with disgust, covering her eyes. She refuses to cry about it again in front of him. Several times, Bucky had walked in on her sobbing in the tub, sitting there in hot water on eighty-degree days.

"Mikelle, you're traumatized. If you keep trying to suppress it all, it's only going to get worse."

"Don't try to psychologize me," she says more defensively than she'd meant to, sending a glare in James's direction.

"You deal with your shit in therapy. Let me deal with mine."

Bucky swallows uneasily, not wanting to press the wrong buttons. He had been fighting with Mikelle, something they aren't very accustomed to, as they generally spend most of their time fucking and sharing stories about their lives.

"I'm not blaming you for anything that happened, Kelly. You don't have to be angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you," she says, her voice finally breaking and tears streaming out of her eyes. He can't resist the urge to reach for her now. She takes a step back, landing herself against the wall, shoulders heaving with silent sobs as she crosses her arms.

"You…couldn't possibly understand what it was like," she says, barely whispering, "He _lied_ to me. All those years, he _lied to my face_…And what he did is unforgivable. I can't wash him off me, James—I can't stop thinking about it when…"

Bucky's fists clench with anger and his eyes water.

"I made him suffer, Kelly," James promises. She clutches her chest, calming down. Mikelle closes her eyes when she speaks again.

"I just need some space…okay?"

The soldier's heart crumbles. They could only have so much space living in a three-bedroom house together. He knows as Mikelle clasps his arm a moment when she passes him that he's not really the one to blame. He listens to the sound of the tub running upstairs.


	13. Chapter 13

Instead of waiting around to bother her some more, Bucky decides to go for a run. It's cloudy, but a solid eighty degrees, the sun setting. He tries to take his mind off Mikelle for the moment, focus on his calves aching, the impact of his feet against the hot cement…

She can't quite tell whether it's even possible anymore to regain the telekinesis. _Mina fucked everything up_. If only James hadn't unwittingly blown their cover, they'd probably still be living in Paris, drowning naked in satin sheets every day, staying under the radar. Her hands shake as she dips back into the water, rinsing the suds off her body. She has taken many baths since the incident, but she can't wipe Elias's face out of her mind. It feels unnatural for Bucky to touch her in any sexual way, and she cries at the thought of him believing that she no longer loves him. _It has nothing to do with Bucky_, Mikelle thinks, _I just feel…tainted…It feels wrong, like putting someone else's shoes on your feet._ She doesn't like ignoring him. Bucky hasn't mentioned it verbally, but by the way he looks at her from across the table at dinner most nights, or while they sit watching the evening news, she knows how much he misses being close to her. Mikelle's new job is mostly an excuse to try and take her mind off of all the drama and pain; she still has a lot of money saved up from selling her parents' house, but she needed an excuse to get away from Bucky. She had caught wind of the job from Natasha, who managed to help her get it, even while her cast was barely off. She waitresses at a bar and grill, having gotten good tips in the past two nights that she'd gone out of her way to put makeup on. As she slips into uniform, Bucky finally trudges up the stairs, carrying his shirt in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His pristine body is a sight to behold, and Mikelle pauses in slipping a handgun into her purse. Bucky pauses, having already caught sight of it.

"Your boss going to be okay with that?" he asks, grinning before finishing the bottle off, crushing it effortlessly in his bionic grip, and throwing it into the trash. Bucky sighs and wipes the back of his hand across his brow. He steps out of his shoes and lines them up against the wall under the bureau, beside Mikelle's heels, which she hasn't worn since Paris.

"He doesn't have to know," she says, shrugging. Bucky throws his shirt and socks into the hamper before starting on his shorts. Mikelle pauses again, crossing her arms to stare at him as he looks in the mirror, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind his ears. His farmer's tan makes her want to laugh, but she can't, and for the first time in weeks, she honestly begins to feel aroused.

"Thinking I should get a haircut," the soldier mumbles absently. Mikelle starts around the bed and Bucky turns to face her. She grins.

"I like it. Makes you look…like a rock star."

Before she manages to pass him completely, Bucky's metal grasp wraps around her elbow. He presses his lips to her cheek.

"I don't know where you thought you were going without giving me a kiss," he says somewhat seductively. She laughs, turns to plant one lingeringly upon his cleft, the skin smooth from a recent shave. Bucky closes his eyes and sighs. She can't help but place her hands on his pecks momentarily. The feel of his sweat beneath her palms reminds Mikelle of their flat in Paris, how he'd walk into the kitchen drenched in sweat after his long runs with Steve, coax her into sex.

"Do you need me to drop you off?" he asks sweetly. She rarely went out alone since the incident. Mikelle takes a deep breath and shakes her head in the negative.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I know that a lot of things happened to you, things you don't want to talk about—hell, there are things that I've done or happened to me that _I_ don't want to talk about—but…I'm here, Kelly. You don't have to go through this all alone. Even if I can't change what that piece of shit did to you, I can listen…I can _try_ to make it better."

Mikelle's eyes water and she turns her face away to wipe her tears.

"…I just feel like you've been ignoring me. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable earlier," he admits softly, cautiously, as if afraid his words will cut her. Mikelle shakes her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"There's nothing to apologize for, baby. It wasn't your fault."

"I _know that_," she breathes.

"You seem like you're disgusted when I try to touch you."

"What?" Her eyes are filled with remorse, "No. It's not about you, Bucky…I haven't been feeling up to intimacy again just yet. I need time."

The soldier approaches her, closing the gap between them. Mikelle can smell his sweat, feel the heat emanating off his naked body.

"I understand…I love you, Mikelle."

His lips press to her shoulder and she stands there another moment before starting towards the door and promising to call Bucky on her break during the night shift. She knows as she walks out the front door, that he's frustrated by her constant pulling away from him, emotionally and physically.

Mikelle is taken by surprise as the redheaded bombshell parks herself at the bar, a grin on her face.

"How's the night life treating you?" she asks. Mikelle smiles, leaning against the table to plant an amicable kiss on Natasha's temple.

"Great, I guess. But if another frat boy tries to grab my ass, I'm going to have to break a nose or two. I just don't want to get fired. I _barely _started," Mikelle sighs.

"Oh, I'll take care of it. It's really not that bad of a place, it's just those minors that have been getting in lately," Natasha promises. Mikelle smiles, not doubting the woman.

"Sex on the beach, please," Natasha adds casually. Mikelle starts for the drinks.

"On the house."

As Mikelle mixes the drink, the music gets a bit louder and upbeat. Pretty soon, barely legal kids will be running amuck, spilling their drinks on each other, and tripping out of the bar. Mikelle throws a shovel of ice in to Natasha's drink and hands it to her. Natasha grins and tilts her glass to Mikelle before taking a sip.

"So, how is your leg?" she asks sincerely. Mikelle glances down a moment at her legs which are almost hidden beneath a pair of opaque tights.

"Much better. I've been weaning myself off the Vicodin, but I'll live."

"And James?" Natasha asks, cocking a flaming brow. Mikelle attempts not to let her smile fade as she turns to pretend to gaze at a few newcomers to the bar.

"He's great. He's…"

Mikelle nods towards the new customers and Natasha nods as Mikelle saunters off to do her job. By the time she comes back, Natasha is turning away from a guy that's trying to talk to her.

"So where's Steve?"

"Oh, he's tired," Natasha grins. Something about the expression is sensual, and Mikelle blushes a bit.

"You know how the elderly get, turning in for bed early," Natasha adds.

"It's barely twelve-thirty."

Natasha laughs.

"She has a boyfriend. You're wasting your time," Mikelle informs the rather attractive man still trying to get Natasha's attention.

"Does she? What about you?"

"Oh, _please_. Order a drink or get lost," Mikelle states with a pleasant grin.

He makes some rude comment about them being girlfriends, and Natasha turns to glare at him. Mikelle's hand resting on the bar begins to claw with irritation.

"Get fucking lost. She's not interested, and neither am I. Good night," Natasha finally spits. The guy backs down, but slowly, sending daggers at Mikelle. Natasha shakes her head.

"So, what's it like with Bucky? Is that metallic hand cold all the time?"

Mikelle shyly grins, reaching for the vodka and adding more to Natasha's drink.

"Not _all_ the time," Mikelle admits. Natasha cocks both brows interestedly.

"Don't be so shy. I just wanted to lighten you up."

"Lighten me up?" Mikelle's brows clench.

Natasha sighs, "Steve said Bucky's been worried about you, that you've been a bit…removed and quiet. Steve wouldn't say so, but I think he's been wanting me to try and talk to you, since Bucky feels like he can't…but I can't imagine how hard that must've been for you, you're ex, your history. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. Just think of this as our ladies' night out."

"You mean _your_ night out? I'm working."

Natasha smiles. Mikelle sighs, opening her mouth again, but unable to decide what exactly to say. She scans the growing crowd, and something shiny catches her eye. Bucky stands a short distance from the bar, looking rather lost. Mikelle ducks for a moment, and Natasha turns around to see who she's attempting to hide from.

"Aw, he looks so lost," Natasha states sarcastically, "Like a puppy or something."

"What's he doing here? I told him I didn't need a ride."

"He gives you _rides _to work? That's too cute. How sweet. You guys are going to give me a cavity," Natasha prattles, sipping more of her drink. Mikelle sits up straight. A waitress named Rose approaches the bar with her hands full of empty platters and asks that a trio of scotch be delivered to table six. It's getting busy, and Mikelle can't see where the other waitresses are running off to.

"Excuse me a minute," she says, Natasha still gazing at Bucky, who has pulled his phone out of his pocket. Mikelle feels hers vibrate in the pocket of her skirt as she hurries with the scotch. Upon making it over to the table where the order had been requested, she finds three men chattering, probably in their early twenties—barely legal. As she places the third drink in front of a guy who hasn't even stopped talking excitedly to look at her, she feels one of the others grip her arm. She turns to reclaim her limb, but he pulls it down towards the booth, asking her to join them, telling her she's pretty. Mikelle yanks her arm back and grins passively. As she tries to start away again, she's taken aback by a slap on her rear. As she turns her head to find one of the men at the table still resting his palm on her behind, her eyebrows cock in disbelief. Before Mikelle can vehemently tell him off, his arm is yanked violently sideways, a shiny pair of knuckles catching her eyes for only a moment. She doesn't have to turn her head full around to know that it's Bucky about to beat the shit out of the guy who had touched her so inappropriately.

"Fucking punk."

Mikelle can easily make out Bucky's irritated voice above the music.

"Don't know how to treat women? Huh—?"

"Hey, _fuck you_, man! Let me go!"

"You're going to apologize right now or I'll break your fucking face," Bucky warns. By now, the other douche bags at the table have stood up. They attempt to placate the situation, explaining the fact that their friend is a bit tipsy, he doesn't know what he's doing, just let him go. Mikelle places the platter down on the table and turns around to find Bucky still gripping the bastard's arm.

"Get the hell off," the boy spits, "I'm not apologizing for shit. Her fucking tits are practically out—look at that skirt," he says, attempting to pull his arm out of Bucky's grasp and eying Mikelle up and down.

"What the fuck is _this_?!" The idiot finally zeroes in on Bucky's bionic limb.

"A prosthesis. Don't you have an apology to make?" Bucky glowers.

"You don't go out dressed like that and _not_ expect some grabbing. She's a _waitress_. Not a businesswoman. Relax!" The guy continues. Bucky raises his right fist and the guy falls straight to the floor, socked in a fraction of a second.

"_James_!" Mikelle exclaims, somewhat surprised at his response, despite the fact that he's responding the same way she would have, had she _not _wanted to keep the job. People gasp, heads begin to turn, and right as the young man attempts to get up again, Bucky kicks him in the gut, causing him to roll across the floor a few feet. Bucky walks right up and kicks him again harder a second time, followed by a third, shoving back his friends when they try to come to his rescue. Natasha is running over at this point. Bucky only stops when Mikelle grasps his arms, getting between him and the guy bleeding on the floor. Bucky glares down at the man, seemingly unaware of Mikelle still calling his name.

"If I ever see you again, if you ever fucking touch my girlfriend like that again, I'll cripple you—do you hear me, you piece of shit?!"

His violent anger begins to scare Mikelle as the man's friends start to haul him up and hurry out of the bar.

"_Bucky_," Mikelle breathes, pressing both hands firmly upon his chest. The guy had been a bastard, but his behavior wasn't something Mikelle couldn't have handled on her own, and it paled in comparison to Elias. Bucky glares after the guys, and to Mikelle's surprise, moves past her to follow them.

"Hey! Hey, hey," Natasha calls, hurrying in front of him, finally stopping him. The scene has dispersed almost as quickly as attention was drawn to it. Finally, he turns around to look at Mikelle after Natasha convinces him to let it go. He shakes his head, sighing, eyebrows tightly clenched in residual fury. Mikelle places each of the drinks back on the platter, not taking her eyes off of Bucky as he approaches. Something tells her that he would have done much worse to the man and she could not have stopped him. Lucky Natasha had been there to bring to Bucky's attention the fact that there was a bar full of witnesses, and he didn't need to be putting himself in the spotlight.

"You okay?" Bucky asks sweetly, his voice unbelievably kind considering how harsh it had just been. As Bucky snakes an arm around Mikelle's waist, kisses her on the cheek, she turns to find Natasha still looking around, hoping security won't come in. Mikelle spins elegantly out of Bucky's embrace.

"You should _leave,_ before somebody reports you. I'm on the clock. What are you doing here anyway?" Mikelle asks, frightened deep down as she tries to read the hard look on Bucky's face.

"I just wanted to check—" he doesn't finish his sentence, glances towards Natasha while scratching the back of his head. He knows Mikelle doesn't like for him to underestimate her; she could handle a drunk guy being a pest. What she doesn't realize is that he had not intended to underestimate her at all. Mikelle narrows her eyes and cocks her head to the side.

"Check on me?"

Bucky shrugs a moment, caught.

"You didn't call me. You said you would. During the night shift," Bucky adds, trying to ring a bell. She had felt her phone vibrate more than once before Bucky actually showed up. She hadn't felt like talking, not that she really got busy before at least eleven o'clock. She blinks stupidly.

"I'm sorry. It got really crazy," she mutters, starting back towards the bar. She turns to glance behind her at Bucky following, warily eying anyone that stares a moment too long at his arm.

"Bucky, go home. I'll be home soon, okay?" she promises, placing the platter on the counter to face him. He pauses there in silence for a moment, before buttoning her shirt up by two buttons. She hadn't noticed how much of her bra was showing. She sighs.

"No, I'll just stay. Have a drink," he says, looking around again, and for a moment, Mikelle is certain he's looking for the bastard who'd had the audacity to slap her ass. She hasn't felt this afraid of Bucky since he'd stole her away to Nevada on his mission to abduct her in the name of Hydra. She wonders if his outburst was simply an overcompensation for not having been able to defend her against Elias.

"You don't like staying up this late," she says, and Bucky knows she's right.

"Go home. I promise I'll be _fine_—"

"I said I'll stay and have a drink," Bucky adds, brushing his hair back with a long blink.

"…I don't need you to babysit me. That guy was just an asshole—nothing I'm not used to—"

"Well, you shouldn't _have_ to be used to it," he says a bit more defensively than Mikelle had expected.

"Back in my day, it actually meant something to show the ladies some _respect_, and he was fucking tugging on your arm like you were something to play with."

Mikelle gives up trying to convince Bucky to leave. He sits at the bar and his eyes follow her as she discards the scotch and allows her coworker to get him a drink. She works distractedly, Natasha sparing her a goodnight after asking whether she's okay. It occurs to Mikelle —as if it had not been clear as day to her before—that Bucky really is a soldier, a killing machine.


	14. Chapter 14

After a round of drinks ordered by a group of ladies at the bar, Mikelle turns to find Bucky gone. She wonders whether he had simply gone to the men's room, but when her shift ends at 2 a.m., she knows he went home.

Walking to her car in the balmy summer night, Mikelle can't help looking over her shoulder a number of times; it feels as if someone is watching her. She hurries to her car and sticks the key into the lock. She would have used the remote to open the car when she was several feet away, but the damn thing had been broken for a while. Mikelle pauses and glances to the right and to the left. Something lands with an almost inaudible _tap_ on the ground behind her. Right before she has time to turn around and look to find what had made the sound, she can see a figure closing in on her through the reflection on the car window. Arms close in around her and she drops her purse with a scream. The hooded figure that has enclosed her in its arms literally picks Mikelle up off her feet. She struggles and kicks, but it begins to feel as if whoever has grabbed her is attempting to squeeze the air out of her. She screams to make more noise, but as the figure drags her into the alley, she can hardly catch her breath. In a final attempt to get away, Mikelle bows her head forward and then with all she can muster, knocks her head back, knowing it makes violent contact with the stalker. She hears the breath knock from him as he finally lets her go, staggering back a moment. As she whips around, she finds him clutching what must be his nose beneath the hoodie he's wearing. She spots a trash can and picks the lid up to Frisbee it directly at the stalker's head. But when he catches it with a cold, hard, _clink_ noise, she spots the metallic hand as it glints under the moonlight. Mikelle can only think of one person who has a metallic hand. _Bucky? Why the fuck would Bucky attack her?_ Mikelle doesn't waste time speculating this before she gets a running start to kick the lid out of his hand as a mere distraction before she drops to do a circling spin kick that would have caused him to fall, had he not jumped completely back a number of feet. Before she knows it, she's ducking punches and throwing her own, but then he catches her arm and pulls it forward before twisting it around her back. He moves so fast that she doesn't even know exactly when he hooked her other arm; before or after pressing her full force up against the brick wall? The familiar sound of Mikelle's switchblade unlatching catches her ear, and she feels the cold knife against her throat.

"You weren't fast enough," James explains with noticeable disappointment, breathing right into Mikelle's ear. He lets up on her and she turns around swiftly to pull the hood from over his head.

"Screaming rarely stops attackers—you have to be ready _at all times_," Bucky stresses, closing the blade and tucking it into the pocket of Mikelle's skirt. She still has her arms crossed, glaring at him as he stares her down.

"What the _fuck_, Bucky?! I just want to go home and get some sleep," she says, her voice breaking a bit.

"You _really_ hurt me," she complains angrily, rubbing the shoulder of the recently twisted arm.

"Mikelle, I'm serious. What if I had been that asshole that grabbed you earlier—?"

"Then I would have put him the fuck out! He was a drunk piece of shit. God, James, _why_ did you have to do that? It's _two in the morning_," she complains, shoving his chest before starting back to her car. Bucky follows with a sigh.

"So then I _do _have to babysit you," he says seriously. Mikelle shakes her head, picking her purse up off the curb. Bucky grabs her arm and she stands still.

"Listen to me, Kelly. You don't know Hydra like I do. If you think they'd done their worst when they took you, you haven't seen _shit_ yet. It must have been _damn _easy for that doctor to incapacitate you the last time. You _have to be ready at all times_," he stresses again, "Because they're _still _out there, and they're _still _after you."

"Leave me alone!" Mikelle screams, whipping around with tears in her eyes. He need not have done all of this. She'd hated the feeling of being restrained, held so tightly that she'd nearly lost consciousness. It brought back bad memories, reminded her of Elias's ruthlessness.

"Kelly, is something wrong here? This guy bothering you?"

Vincent, a busboy from the bar and grill and someone Mikelle knows on no more than a professional level, stalks towards the pair arguing under the streetlight. Vincent had been heading to his car moments after the spar. He walks right up until he's standing between Bucky and Mikelle.

"Hey, back off, creep," he spits at Bucky.

"Yeah? Why don't _you _just back the hell off and mind your own business? I'm trying to talk to my girlfriend," Bucky grimaces, grabbing the collar of Vince's shirt and pulling him a few inches off his feet.

"_James_," she shouts, attempting to shove between the two; Vincent had already begun to raise his fist.

"You want to hit me?" Vincent asks. Bucky glares at him, not budging when Mikelle presses against him roughly.

"Go ahead, pick on somebody your own size," Vincent spits.

"_James_!"

She can't quite figure out what the hell has been getting into the soldier. She hadn't seen him quite like this until earlier when the guy at the bar had grabbed her. Bucky then pushes Vincent against Mikelle's car, eying the bar and grill logo on his t-shirt and clearing him of being an imminent threat. Bucky then stalks off down the street without another word. Vincent slowly sits up, gazing after Bucky, who pulls the hood back over his head.

"Some boyfriend you got there, Kelly."

She sighs.

"We were just…having a little fight—it was nothing. Go home," she says before pulling the door open and getting into the car. Vincent watches her drive off. A short distance before their home, Mikelle parks her car to finally cry the tears that she'd been wanting to let out since forever. She fears her life will never be real with Bucky; they're always going to be on the run or looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next Hydra attack. She pulls a tissue from her dashboard to blow her nose as the sobbing intensifies. He was totally right! Suppose he had been some Hydra agent sent to abduct her again? Or worse, to kill her? She had barely been able to defend herself just now. After a good five or ten minutes of crying, Mikelle composes herself and drives the rest of the way home.

As she stumbles through the doorway, the light from the T.V. is blinking against the wall. She closes and locks the front door, only to find that Bucky is asleep on the pull-out couch in the den. She pauses a moment to turn the television off, sitting on the side of the bed, the ceiling fan spinning overhead. She stares at Bucky a moment, wondering whether she ever really know him at all. He'd gone ripshit on her with that little attack. Though she knows it was only an attempt to test her, it had scared her no less. He stirs a moment as she gets up to prepare for bed. After showering, Mikelle tries and fails to sleep soundly in their bed upstairs. She's used to falling asleep in the comfort of Bucky's embrace, despite the weather being rather iffy. Deciding she doesn't want to be awake for the entire day, she tiptoes back downstairs to the den. James has turned around in his sleep, his chest rising and falling gently with each breath. She cuddles up to his body carefully and quietly, the temperature having dropped significantly since she'd left for work.

Bucky is surprised to find Mikelle lying on his chest as he opens his eyes, the ceiling fan creating white noise that calms him. He'd slept on the couch because several times, Mikelle had said she needed space. Their fight hours earlier had only forced him to want to stay away until she cooled off. After she pulled away from him _again_ at the bar the previous night, he'd started wondering whether his outburst at the drunk guy had scared her; he doesn't want to scare her away. He hates the way she'd looked at him uncomfortably, yet as she breathes against his chest, he can't help smiling warmly. He lies there a while, until the urge to urinate is overpowering. Carefully, he slips out from under Mikelle's head, replacing his chest with a pillow. He starts the kettle in the kitchen after using the bathroom. When Mikelle opens her eyes, the scent of cinnamon meets her nose. Bucky sits Indian style on the pull-out couch beside her, watching the news quietly. She sits up and pulls the mug out of his hand before he can take another sip. He laughs.

"You didn't have to sleep down here on this uncomfortable piece of crap," he says, not taking his steely gaze off the weather report. Mikelle sighs, inching behind Bucky to rest her head in the centre of his back. He doesn't say a word.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispers. His head turns slightly in the direction of her voice.

"…I know you've just been trying to help me. It's hard to talk about, and when you attacked me like that, I—"

Mikelle's voice catches in her throat. Bucky gazes towards the ceiling a moment before turning around. He pulls the mug out of Mikelle's fingers and places it on the coffee table. He stares down at her where she sits on her knees before pulling her into his arms. He isn't surprised when she sobs into his bare chest, at _last_ letting it all go. She had refused to cry to him like this after her stay in the hospital in Germany. He had seen her cry several times, after which she would generally lock herself away in the bedroom or bathroom, refusing his pity, trying to retain her independence and strength. She didn't like to feel fragile; Bucky knew this.

"It's okay, Kelly…I've got you."

Bucky merely kisses about her head and holds her tightly for a handful of minutes, warm droplets traveling down his pecks from her eyes. The ragged way she sobs makes his heart beat faster, and a sense of remorse and anger overtakes him. He should have paid better attention. Maybe none of this would have happened if he had known what Mikelle was trying to do all along with the telekinesis. It shouldn't have been so easy for her to hide everything from him—he was a spy too. He should have tried to follow her to that doctor's appointment. Elias never would have gotten his hands on her, nor Mina, if he hadn't been so blinded by love. He could have protected her better. As Bucky stares out the window thinking all of these thoughts, he finds his own eyes watering angrily.

"I'm not going to leave you, if that's what you're worried about," he assures quietly, placing his lips for a long moment against Mikelle's temple.

"I should have told you everything…I endangered us both. They never would have found you if they hadn't found _me_…We could still be in Paris. We could have—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. You can't keep blaming yourself, Kelly. You want to blame somebody, blame _me_. I should have been there for you."

She wipes her eyes and pulls back. Bucky reaches for the tissues on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry I caught you off guard like that," he says honestly, brushing his thumb over the bruise on her arm where he had grabbed her in the alley hours prior.

"Don't apologize—you were right," she breathes, hugging her knees and staring into space. Bucky begins to wipe her nose with the tissue as she ponders.

"You were _right_, James…they could have gotten to me again. Just like that."

She doesn't look at him, she looks right through him, her face contorting into fear.

"They almost had me _kill you_," she says, finally making eye contact with him.

"I could never forgive myself if it ever happens again. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be anywhere near me—"

"Don't start that again," Bucky says firmly, grinning weakly.

"I'm _serious__—_"

"_No_. No, Kelly. The telekinesis is gone, remember? You can't use it anymore—"

"We don't know that! Mina had me under control—"

"I'm _not _going to desert you, so stop asking me to. Do you hear me, Mikelle Hass?"

She gazes up into his wide, oceany eyes.

"Kelly…_I love you_. You can't just leave me. Not after everything we've been through, after I saved you."

As she blinks, she remembers. The Winter Soldier _had _saved her. He'd saved her from Hydra before she even knew she needed saving. His sudden obsession with her had saved her very life. If he hadn't run away with her, ditched his mission, for all she knew, she'd be a brainwashed killer, much like James himself had been before Steve helped him remember the truth.

"Please…don't ever say anything like that to me again," he begs. Mikelle nods, closing her eyes when Bucky's lips meet hers in the sweet moment.

"I would die for you."

She'd rather him _not _die at all, and finds herself clinging to him tighter than she had moments earlier. Bucky pulls her onto his lap, so that her legs straddle his waist. Elias's brutality against her completely evaporates from her subconscious as Bucky passes his metallic hand calmingly down Mikelle's spine. She kisses him with meaning, pushing her hands through his hair. When Bucky kisses her back, neither of them close their eyes. Instead, the kissing intensifies and Mikelle can't let go. She explores Bucky's sinewy frame, cupping his shoulder blades as she allows him to coax her mouth open with his tongue. James gives her avid time to warm up, not making another move until Mikelle begins to knock her hips against him. She feels him gradually harden beneath her spread legs. Bucky smiles against her throat, leading them both back.

"I missed you," James breathes, pulling his metallic hand down Mikelle's side. He watches as he causes the hairs on her body to rise, before kneeling between her legs to kiss her stomach, lift her shirt, pull her panties south, and press his lips to her hip. Mikelle closes her eyes and lies still beneath the soldier's touch, knowing that somewhere deep inside, she had missed this too. She feels neither pain nor the desire to defend herself when Bucky lets his weight down between her thighs. His ocean gaze disappears momentarily as he bites his lip, slipping inside of her gingerly, before looking down to find her eyes open, no anxiety written on her face. Mikelle cups his with both hands and Bucky lowers his head to grace her with kisses and sweet words that cause her to blush and sweat, despite the ceiling fan spraying them with gentle gusts of cool air. There's something different about this time; the trust is just about tangible as Mikelle wraps her arms around the soldier's back, spreads her legs a bit further. James's pace never speeds up much at all. His gentleness is noticeable in the way his arms strain to keep Mikelle's body less restrained against the mattress. He merely sways his hips a bit more firmly, but keeps a calm and collected pace, even as Mikelle digs into his back with her nails. She lifts her head to kiss his cleft lingeringly, and he plasters his forehead against hers, finishing with care and accuracy. Mikelle's body quivers. Bucky sighs with relief, rolling to his side. Mikelle locks her legs around his waist, so that he's still between them when he lies down to catch his breath. She smiles at Bucky, and Bucky smiles at her. He intertwines the fingers of his metallic hand in Mikelle's. Her eyes trace the limb excitedly. It seems much bigger than she remembers. Maybe not. Maybe she just hadn't paid much attention to it recently in her avoidance of being touched at all. Mikelle moves in closer to press her lips against the inside of Bucky's wrist. She closes her eyes and continues, knowing that he can feel the pucker of her lips as if it were his own skin.

"By the way, Stark told me to tell you to stop kissing my arm. Your chap stick smudges the metal," Bucky grins. Mikelle blushes before looking up at him, feeling him clasp her chin in those bionic digits.

"But _I _like it when you kiss my arm," Bucky admits quietly, sexually. She laughs.

Another month passes without a problem. Bucky convinces Mikelle to start allowing him to drive her to and from work, both of them still bearing the thought that a Hydra or S.T.A.A.R. assassin will show up at any moment. On a hot summer afternoon, Bucky bench presses Mikelle for the fiftieth time where he lies on the hardwood floor of their bedroom. She stares up at the ceiling in utter amazement; it doesn't sound like he's struggling at all, merely breathing calmly. Her skin had begun to sweat against Bucky's palms.

"Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three," Bucky continues with a smile on his face as he easily lifts the woman up and down with utter strength.

"Wow…can I get down now?" she asks seriously. She had laughed for the first twenty or thirty bench presses, but it was becoming a bit nauseating.

"How about five thousand more? Steve and Natasha broke our record last weekend."

"Bucky."

James laughs and stands up quickly, bringing Mikelle into a bridal style hold. A bead of sweat drips down the side of his face as he places her on the bed. She grins.

"You're…_so strong_."

"Are you _just _now noticing?" Bucky asks sarcastically, pulling his tank top off.

"Come wash my back for me," he grins, grasping her ankle where she had pulled her knees to her chest. Mikelle grins and stands. He slowly descends to his knees, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he pulls her shorts off, followed by her underwear. Mikelle pulls the tank top she had slept in off and throws it in the hamper in the corner. Bucky stands, maintaining eye contact as he pulls his boxers off. He grabs Mikelle's hand and she follows Bucky into the bathroom. He barely waits until the water drenches them both before pressing Mikelle up against the wall and forcing his hand up between her thighs.


End file.
